


Til the Nile runs White

by DardalionWrites, Inzomniac



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Anthropomorphic, F/F, Female-Centric, Futanari, Incest, Multi, Women-Only-World, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-05-20 02:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19368277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DardalionWrites/pseuds/DardalionWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inzomniac/pseuds/Inzomniac
Summary: Eighteen years ago, Cleopatra VII Philopator ascended to the throne, becoming Queen of an Egypt subject to the controlling whims of the Grecoroman Empire. Tired of watching her nation's women suffer the indignity of vassalhood, and frustrated at the inaction of the Goddesses of Egypt, Cleopatra takes matters into her own hands.





	1. Ascension

**Author's Note:**

> Plotted and planned by Inzomniac

* * *

 

 

 

Thin beams of light cut their way through gossamer curtains draped over an open balcony, illuminating motes of dust that danced in the early morning air. It was somewhere between the fifth and sixth hour judging from the ruddy orange glow, the Goddess, Khepri, pushing Ra up over the pyramids and across the celestial heavens. Already, dutiful farmers would be out tending fields of wheat and barley along the fertile banks of the Nile and tradesmen would be setting up their brightly coloured stands in the market bazaar.

For Cleopatra VII Philopator, the morning began with the Goddesses staring down on her, their faces enshrined in murals, paintings and imagery set about and below the ceiling of her palatial chamber. Cleopatra stared at them and they stared back, as unmoving and uncaring as the stone they were carved from.

Her dark emerald eyes closed slowly and a soft sigh escaped her.

Pulling herself from the warmth of her sheets, and the warmer bodies clinging weakly to her, Cleopatra slid to the edge of her bed and rose, naked, to face the light streaming through her balcony. Behind her, the concubines of her personal harem cuddled into one another as they sought her missing warmth. Their long legs and gently curving bosoms pushed together, skin the colour of ochre mixing in her white sheets. Their bodies tempted her back with the promise of warm flesh, cool kisses and blissful peace. It would have been easy to surrender to such early pleasures.

Cleopatra walked away from it, bare feet padding softly across the marble floor as she made her way through and out onto the balcony. The morning sun caressed her dark skin, casting its rays upon her. In the sky, Nut, the sun, Ra, was crossing above the horizon and bathing her kingdom in his golden glow. He would pass through Nut’s domain, granting life unto Egypt as her people toiled, before setting in west as Atum, the Goddess of the setting sun.

Once upon a time, such sights would have filled her with reverence. Now, they were but an ever-present reminder. Cleopatra turned away from it, from it and her people, and padded her way back into her chambers, just as the ornate doors slowly and silently opened, and a figure entered.

She was tall, though not quite as tall as Cleopatra herself. Slim and young, clad in the soft finery of the palatial handmaidens, the beautiful young girl paused on seeing Cleopatra standing before her and quickly fell to both knees. Her dress, knee-length and cut up the front with two slits beneath each breast, swayed in the morning breeze, highlighting the girl’s curvaceous figure.

“My Queen,” the woman said reverently, lovingly. Her braided black hair fell over one shoulder and dangled below as she bowed her head low to the floor. “I – I had come to wake you, my Queen, but to find you already awoken, and I not being prepared. Forgive me, your majesty, I beg of you.”

“There is little to blame. I simply wished to rise under my own power this morn.” Cleopatra said it warmly, but the woman remained on her knees. She sighed and waved a hand, speaking in a more commanding voice. “Rise, Shanti.”

The woman, Shanti, did so immediately, “My Queen, I apologise-”

“Is my bath prepared?”

“Yes!” Shanti beamed and hurried to one of Cleopatra’s clothing racks, drawing forth a long and flowing robe of purest white. The handmaiden caressed it with both hands, inspecting it carefully for the slightest sign of dust or the smallest insect.

Cleopatra waited impatiently, though not unkindly. How many times had it been now that she asked Shanti not to apologise and grovel so? Too many to retain count of, and Cleopatra knew it would be many more before the woman might learn her lesson. For the now, even asking her to hurry might prompt numerous apologies.

It was easier to wait.

“Will you forgive me regardless, my Queen?” Shanti asked, returning with the robe and somehow still finding reason to apologise. “I cannot help but think that were it my mother in my place, she would have been here an hour earlier, ready for the moment your eyes opened.”

“You are forgiven, Shanti.” Better, perhaps, to grant her that unnecessary forgiveness. “And have I not told you to not compare yourself to Ahit? Your family has served the Queens for as long as can be recalled with great honour. Ten and eight years have you drawn breath upon Geb’s body, and you have served me equally well. Doubt yourself no further or you will show doubt in my judgment of you.”

Shanti’s skin flushed pink and she looked away, lips tugging slightly. “I would never doubt your wisdom, my Queen.”

“Then it must be that you are ideally suited to your task,” Cleopatra said, brooking no argument. She extended her arms out to the side, allowing Shanti to gently drape and tie the robe over her, covering her naked body with all but the simplest of propriety. “I will hear no more of your doubts today. Come, my bath awaits.”

“My Queen.” Shanti stepped back and inspected her, skin heating up as she took in Cleopatra’s beauty. The handmaiden’s lower lip was caught between her teeth and a glance, almost jealous, was aimed toward the concubines still slumbering in Cleopatra’s bed. “Should I not wake them, my Queen? It is their duty to clean your royal body.”

“Let them rest, Shanti. They cleaned my body enough last night with their tongues and lips.”

The briefest flash of envy crossed over the young girl’s face, hidden with speed and grace deserving of Ahit’s most talented daughter. “As you wish it, my Queen. But then, shall you wash yourself?”

“No, Shanti. This morning you shall have the pleasure.”

“M – My Queen. I cannot-” Shanti bit those words off, showing a rare moment of selfishness in deciding _not_ to utter what she truly ought to. Her entire body flushed, the girl knowing she had been caught but pushing on regardless. “You do my great honour, my Queen.”

“I will do you more than that before the day is done, Shanti,” Cleopatra murmured.

Louder, she bade her handmaiden follow as she walked out of the open doors and into the hallways of Alexandria’s palace, past servants who knelt and bowed dependent on their age or position. The youngest fell to their knees while older and wiser bowed their heads and shoulders. There were some small few that Cleopatra rewarded with smiles or attention of her own, trusted courtiers and old advisors who had once upon a time guided her as a child, and now continued to offer their sage advice even in her ascendancy.

Together, they had ruled Egypt as best they were able.

Which, considering recent circumstances, was not as well as it once had been. While Cleopatra was in her ascendancy, Egypt was not. Egypt was as Atum, the finisher, the setting sun over Egypt. Cleopatra could only hope that much like Atum, Egypt would travel through the underworld each night and rise as Khepri once more.

Shanti ran ahead of her and opened the grand doors to her personal bath, bowing as Cleopatra padded by on bare feet. As the doors were closed, the young woman rushed over to slowly remove Cleopatra’s robes once more, almost too eager to do so, hands shaking slightly.

Cleopatra chose not to comment on it, though the quiet exhales of breath from her handmaiden brought their own joy. She looked to the bath instead, finding it already full of rich milk. Numerous oils lay on a silver tray nearby, ready for her concubines to clean her.

“You make mock of your preparedness, Shanti, and yet I see my bath ready in its splendour. And I did not request you make it so.”

“My Queen often likes her mornings baths. I thought-”

“You thought correctly, Shanti. Take some small pride in that, will you not?” Cleopatra stepped down into the milk, pleased to find it already warm. Her long legs slowly sank into, followed by her wide hips and smooth stomach. She sat, breasts above the milk, with a pleased sigh.

Shanti knelt on the side and collected her oils.

“Will you not come in, Shanti?”

“M - My Queen…”

“How do you expect to clean me if you cannot touch me? Disrobe and join me.”

None could have disrobed faster than Shanti did in that moment, casting aside her dress and leaving only the thin golden band about her hips as she stepped into the bath, her eagerness showing in every motion. The woman let out a happy sound at the texture of the bath and the warmth, before she waded slowly toward Cleopatra, eyes wide and full of awe.

Cleopatra leaned back and allowed it, making it clear it would be up to Shanti to wash her today.

The handmaiden’s hands trembled as they settled first upon Cleopatra’s shoulders, their touch tentative at first and then more confident, settling down with Shanti’s thumbs touching her neck. Cleopatra leaned her head back, letting her raven hair fall behind her and earning a whimper from Shanti and the gentlest caress on her side of her smooth throat.

“Well, Shanti? Do you not wish to clean me?”

“N – No, my Queen. I wish it. I wish it so badly.”

Faced with the threat of losing this rare honour, Shanti’s hands drifted lower, pressing down over Cleopatra’s arms before coming to her full and round breasts. The girl’s eyes were locked onto them and she swallowed, unsure how to proceed.

In answer, Cleopatra stood, letting milk run down her body in gentle waves and granting Shanti full access to her bosom. Slowly, hesitantly, Shanti let her hands stroke down over and cup them. A faint sound, almost a whimper, slipped from between the girl’s lips. But Shanti was nothing if not determined to serve her. Picking up some oil from the ledge nearby, she rubbed it into her palm and then upon Cleopatra’s skin, working the oil into her body until it shone.

As the ministration continued, Shanti became more confident, stroking wider arcs and caressing Cleopatra’s body – even showing some rare moments of impropriety to allow her finger to brush against a dusky nipple. Always by accident, of course, and yet Cleopatra, able to look down on her handmaiden’s face, knew otherwise.

“Does my bosom please you, Shanti?”

“Yes-” the girl whispered, then startled. “A-Ah, my Queen, I mean- That is…” Her eyes bulged. “I apologise. I was transfixed by your beauty! Forgive me!”

“Transfixed, you say?” Cleopatra watched the girl squirm. While dutiful and honest, Shanti’s inexperience shone through. An older handmaiden might have apologised and backed away, but Shanti stood there, lost and afraid – not for her life, but for the chance she might lose the trust and grace of her Queen.

In that, Shanti was perhaps – no, certainly – her most loyal subject.

Perfect, then, for what she planned.

“Peace, Shanti.” Cleopatra brought a hand forth to caress the girl’s cheek. “I have decided how you will serve me this morning.”

“Y – You have, my Queen?”

“Yes.” Cleopatra brought her elbows down to rest on the side of her bath, holding her upper body up out of the creamy milk. “My concubines sleep the morning away and there is no one to wash the milk from my body. I require you.”

“I will fetch a towel.”

“I did not grant you permission to leave this bath, Shanti.”

“B – But then how shall I wash you-?”

Smiling, Cleopatra crooked a finger toward the girl. “I believe you know, Shanti. You simply do not believe it.” Reaching out, Cleopatra wrapped a hand around the back of Shanti’s head and gripped her braid, drawing the girl closer.

Shanti made it easy, following all too eagerly, body shaking with excitement but also disbelief. Disbelief that slowly faded to awe and desire as Cleopatra drew the girl’s face down toward her breasts.

“Clean me, Shanti. Your Queen demands it.”

Cleopatra leaned her head back as Shanti’s tongue dragged up the valley between her breasts, collecting some milk there, which the girl hesitantly swallowed. She was waiting, Cleopatra knew, for any sign that she had read the order wrong.

In answer, Cleopatra gripped Shanti’s braid and held her head there.

It was all the answer the girl needed. Her lips and tongue caressed their way across Cleopatra’s left breast, drawn up by a hand cupped beneath it. The milk had naturally gravitated toward her nipples and hung there. Shanti whimpered happily as she held her mouth below it, collecting a single drop on her wet, pink tongue.

“Do not stop, Shanti.”

Moaning something in response, Shanti leaned in to wrap her lips around the dusky nub. Cleopatra’s eyes closed and she twitched slightly, humming as the young girl suckled on her as her daughters once had. Much like they, Shanti received her share of milk, though not from the same source. It seemed to matter little to the girl, who leaned in further, pushing her own breasts into Cleopatra’s stomach as she lavished her ruler’s teat with all her adoration.

A hand sought her other breast, squeezing and rubbing her until the girl’s fingers found her other nipple and circled it, drawing the excited flesh out until it stood on end. Though not cleaning in the traditional sense, Cleopatra allowed it, basking in the lust dripping from her handmaiden’s body.

Head falling back, Cleopatra sank down a little and let her legs drift between Shanti’s, giving the girl greater access, something she used to great effect, kissing and dragging her lips reluctantly from one breast to the next, finding Cleopatra’s dark nipple and latching onto it, moaning and grinding her hips forward, rubbing her core over Cleopatra’s thigh.

Oh, Shanti.

How improper.

The Goddesses watched them still, empty eyes looking down from murals and statues that dotted not only the palace, but the entire city.

This was as close as any could come to privacy, not when the Goddesses were absent, but when they might be distracted, if only for a moment. As Ra pushed Khepri across the sky and the Goddesses looked over their domains in the light of Egypt’s new morn.

Cleopatra moved quickly, pushing a hazy-eyed Shanti away and rose out of the bath. She sat her round behind on the ledge, legs dangling into the warm milk. Making sure Shanti was watching, Cleopatra spread her legs as wide as she could and reached down to touch her dark slit. It was wet and ready.

“I have decided, Shanti. Today you shall do more than merely serve me. You shall service me.”

“M – My Queen.” Shanti looked like she knew not whether to protest or to break down in desire, or just to dive straight in. She swallowed, looking down as best she could, tearing her eyes away from Cleopatra’s luscious body. “A – Are you certain?”

“You have served me faithfully, have you not? I desire it, Shanti, but I will not demand it. Do you not wish it?”

“No!” Shanti cried, flushing a moment later. “I – I am sorry, I should not have raised my voice to you.”

“And what if I asked it raised to me, Shanti? Asked it raised with cries of pleasure and my revered name?” Cleopatra extended one smooth leg, placing her toes upon Shanti’s shoulder and holding them there. She smiled as the girl’s hand came up to cup her ankle, the other stroking her leg as Shanti’s lips caressed the top of her foot. “What if I desired your body naked and unbound beneath me, crying out your desire and need?”

“T – Then I would give it, my Queen. By all the Goddesses, I would give it.”

Bringing her foot back, Cleopatra placed it down on the ledge, exposing herself. “The give yourself unto me, Shanti. Do not make me wait longer for I am not a patient ruler.”

Shanti waded through the milk toward her, eyes alight and fixed on the juncture between Cleopatra’s legs. The girl did not so much lower herself as collapse forward in her haste, slapping one milky hand onto her inner thigh and the other onto the marble ledge itself. That hand dipped lower, wrapping around and under Cleopatra’s rear, cupping and holding her in place. Shanti’s breath washed over her slit, warm and misty, hazy with lust.

Cleopatra shivered at it. “That is good, Shanti. Show me your reverence.”

The girl almost did, leaning forward with suck naked desire that her body must have been aching.

But at the last, she remembered, holding herself back with a desperate whine hissed through gritted teeth. Focusing, Shanti swallowed and looked up, impatient but also knowing what must be done.

“To what Goddess shall I dedicate our union, my Queen?”

Ah, yes. The Goddesses. Goddesses held power and domain in all things and grew from the worship of their peoples. Everything from the rising of the sun to the growing of crops or the slaughter of a gazelle was dedicated to one Goddess or another. One could not eat breakfast without a dedication, and lovemaking was no different, even if it were for such carnal purposes.

But today… today was different.

“You shall dedicate it to myself.”

Shanti’s eyes, for the briefest moment, gave way from lust unto confusion.

“M – My Queen...? Did you just say-?”

“Come now, Shanti, have you become hard of hearing of sudden?”

“No, my Queen. It is just…” Shanti swallowed, eyes flitting between Cleopatra’s eyes and her wetness below, milk running down her folds so enticingly. “To not invoke or dedicate our union to a Goddess; it is the ultimate blasphemy.”

“Do you doubt me, Shanti?”

“No! You are Cleopatra. It is because of you that the sun and stars rise and fall. It is… I simply…” Shanti looked down, so weak and afraid. “Will it not anger them?”

Almost certainly. Cleopatra felt the statues watching her, judging her.

“Do you trust me, Shanti?” she asked, stroking the girl’s hair. “Truthfully, beyond what is expected of a handmaiden to her queen? Do you trust in my word and the decisions I have made while ruling Egypt?”

“Yes.” Shanti’s answer was immediate and firm. “I trust you, my Queen. I worship you. I – I love…” Her eyes grew wide and she looked down, ashamed. “F – Forgive me.”

“Have I not told you, Shanti, that there is nothing to forgive? But if you worship me, if you truly revere me…” Cleopatra reached down and used two fingers to draw her lips apart, showing the younger woman her soft, pink inner flesh. “Then should it not only make sense to dedicate yourself and this to me?”

Whether it was the lust or her words, Shanti’s will broke. Love and desire for her Queen outweighed her fear of even the Goddess’ reprisal. Shanti cried out weakly and fell forward, burying her face between Cleopatra’s legs and her tongue between her folds.

Cleopatra’s eyes closed, falling back to stare unseeing at the ceiling as she gasped.

“To you-” Shanti mumbled, whispering the words directly into Cleopatra’s body. “I dedicate our union to Cleopatra VII Philopator, my Queen, my sun, my Goddess-” Shanti’s words broke off as she pushed her nose up into her ruler’s clit, delving her tongue as deep as she could, hungrily lapping at the nectar that had mixed with milk and oil into a heady brew.

Breaking away, there was a thin trail of saliva and arousal that connected Shanti’s lips to Cleopatra’s. The girl stared down at it in awe, then opened her mouth wide and supped it up, swallowing the final traces that darted over her lips.

Lovingly, she looked up to Cleopatra.

“I dedicate our union and all that comes from it to you, Cleopatra. My Goddess.”

The murals stared on impassively. Unknowingly.

“Good.” Cleopatra fisted a hand in Shanti’s wet hair, gripping her braid and drawing the girl closer again, drawing them into a kiss – albeit with Shanti’s lips meeting hers far lower. “Then worship me, Shanti. Worship your Queen as only you can.”

With naught but adoration in her eyes, the young girl moved forward. The touch of her tongue was a bolt of lightning through her body, the girl’s fingertips on her inner thighs the pitter-patter of the rain. Cleopatra leaned back, placing her hands down on the marble floor as her hips and pelvis relaxed into the girl’s face.

Shanti pushed against it, rubbing her nose up against Cleopatra’s clitoris as her tongue delved deep. There was a hint of desperate desire to it that stretched the boundaries of what ought to be expected of her; as a handmaiden, Shanti should have been focused solely on Cleopatra’s pleasure. There was a need within the girl, however. A longing that had her whining and touching herself beneath the milk, one hand dipping between her legs.

“None of that,” Cleopatra ordered. “I would see both hands.” At the girl’s stricken look, shown in two eyes that peeked up from between her legs, Cleopatra smiled. “If you fear for your release, fret not. Once you have satisfied my need, I may see fit to reward you. Would you care to be taken by me, your Queen?”

Shanti’s eyes shone bright. Cleopatra felt more than heard her assent, the pleas whispered into her body. Laughing at the girl’s desperation, she hooked one leg behind and over her shoulders, keeping her in place.

“Then please me, Shanti. Please me well and I shall not only allow you to taste my flesh. I shall take you.”

The shock in her face lasted but for a moment. Joy, lust and hope filled those eyes and they closed suddenly, Shanti leaning in harder than ever before and lapping at her with such speed, such haste, that Cleopatra’s head fell back. Hissing through her teeth, she laid a hand upon Shanti’s scalp and dug her fingers into the girl’s hair.

Shanti was not as experienced as her concubines, not as slow or measured, but there was a passion in her that was absent from others. There could be no doubt that it was more than mere duty that drove her, more than simple obligation.

That was important.

Integral.

Without it, she dare not imagine – dared not, in fact, closing her eyes and focusing solely on Shanti’s tongue within her, grinding her hips forward and clenching her stomach as a river of lust within her flowed south. “It comes, Shanti,” she whispered. “Accept it. Accept me and our union, and I shall reward you beyond your imagination-” The final consonant cut off, a ragged moan slipping from between her lips. “Shanti, it comes – ah – ahhh!”

Cleopatra’s climax came as swift and raging as the Nile’s flood. Her thighs, slick with sweat, milk and oil, clamped down on Shanti’s head and her back arched, pushing her hips up off the marble floor and into her handmaiden’s face.

Shanti’s hands found their way beneath her buttocks, cupping and holding them tight as her Queen rode out her pleasure. Her tongue continued its unerring and slavish devotion, drawing a ragged cry from Cleopatra as her body fell slack, only to be supported and cleaned by her most loyal of servants. To Shanti, the task was not so onerous, and the girl worked with a tint of pink to her cheeks, collecting each droplet of Cleopatra’s climax as though they were precious treasures. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, drinking of her Queen and basking in her service.

“Hmm,” Cleopatra moaned, loosing her hold on the girl long enough to stroke her hair. “Oh, Shanti, you have pleased me greatly this day. I shall have to reward you.”

“M – My Queen,” Shanti whispered, drawing away. A thin trail of lust connected them still and Shanti’s eyes alighted upon seeing it. Opening her mouth wide, she delved down to collect it all, drawing one final sigh from her ruler. Shanti swallowed, an expression of purest bliss on her face. “To please you is a pleasure of its own, my Queen.”

“Be that as it may, I have something special in store for you.” Reaching behind her, and to a small pouch she had set aside earlier, Cleopatra drew forth a long, wooden implement.

It was, to the unknowing eye, a wooden phallus with two ends, thick and smooth with a tapered tip, curved upward in the guise of a Goddess-granted cock, most well-endowed. Shanti’s eyes lit upon seeing it and she reached out, eager to serve and use it on her Queen.

“Not for I, Shanti,” Cleopatra said as she drew it back. “On all fours with you.”

“I-?” Shanti’s eyes grew wide, bulging in a manner that amused Cleopatra greatly. “But my Queen, it is not right. It is my lot to serve-”

“Do you question me? Or is it that you do not wish to be taken by one such as I?”

“No!” Shanti cried her denial, dragging herself from the bath and spilling milk down upon the marble floor. The girl crawled toward and past Cleopatra eagerly, moving sensually, like a feline. Shanti stopped and lowered her head and shoulders to the floor, arching her back down and sticking out her behind. The girl quivered excitedly, unsure if she should believe what was to happen to her.

There could be no blaming her, for it was not for a Queen to mount her servant. On normal days, Cleopatra might lay on her bed as her concubines pleased her with hand, tongue and tool. Rare was it, unheard of in fact, for a Queen to take such a tool to another, least of all one lesser.

Arrogance, one might call it – foolish, even, for a handmaiden to expect it, let alone request.

Shanti trembled, uncertain but driven by need. She shook harder still when Cleopatra reached down to cup her womanhood, feeling all the heat that radiated from it. It could not be mistaken for the warm bath alone and Cleopatra pushed a thumb inside, smiling as she felt how hot and wet her handmaiden truly was.

“You have hidden this well, Shanti. Did you desire me so?”

“I cannot lie, my Queen. But it is my duty to serve, not to be served.”

“And serve you shall,” Cleopatra said, taking her hand from the girl’s body and smearing her juices onto the wooden phallus. As she did, small hieroglyphs that might otherwise have been missed began to flicker and glow.

Shadows cast within the room shifted, drawn over statues and murals of Goddesses, drawing lines across their features and leaving them in the dark. The phallus had two ends, one of which Cleopatra drew to herself, reaching down with one hand to pull her lips apart. As wet as she was, Shanti’s own juices held the object slip in with ease, reaching deep inside her.

It was warm and smooth, humming with energy. Curved up and outward, the other end stood proud from Cleopatra, giving her the capability, if not the visage, of a Goddess.

The moment was upon them. All had led unto now.

“This is your final chance to withdraw, Shanti. What we have done before without dedication to a Goddess might be considered the smallest of blasphemies, but this would be union between us. I would have you dedicate this and yourself to me. Are you prepared for such?”

Before, Shanti had been nervous and afraid. It had shown, even through her lust. Now, the poor girl was lost in a haze of desire. Looking back over one shoulder, Cleopatra could hardly see the girl’s eyes for her tears, hungry and desperate.

“Please, my Queen, I would do it all. I dedicate this and myself to you and no other!”

“So be it.” Cleopatra knelt behind Shanti and laid one hand upon her buttock. The heat seeped into her palm and the girl trembled under her touch, shaking not with fear but need as Cleopatra knelt behind her, touching her thighs to Shanti’s. “Shanti, you must warn me when your moment comes close. Know that if you do not, I shall be most upset. Your pleasure is mine to command, so think not to know your release without instruction.”

The girl whimpered but nodded, pushing her hips back to rub against Cleopatra’s. How impertinent of her, how desperate. Cleopatra smiled and ran both hands over Shanti’s behind, drawing her in and pushing her hips up to direct the faintly glowing tip of her wooden phallus at the girl’s core. So wet and with milk still dripping from her to pool on the floor, Shanti’s womanly lips parted before her, revealing that pink treasure that lay within.

“Have you lain with a woman before, Shanti?”

“Never, my Queen.”

“Saving yourself for me, perhaps?”

“I…” Shanti closed her eyes and mewled as Cleopatra pushed inside her but a little. “I admit it, my Queen. I had long dreamt of this, even if I knew it might never happen.”

“How long?”

“From the first time I saw you!”

Cleopatra smiled and pushed harder, stretching the girl wide and reaching unto the barrier within, proof of her handmaiden’s devotion. “But you are not as tight as an innocent would be. You have touched yourself, have you not?”

“Y – Yes, my Queen.”

“Thinking of me?”

Shanti’s cheeks and shoulders burned.

“I will not fault you it, Shanti. Did you touch yourself in thought of me?”

“Y – Yes…”

“How often?”

The girl swallowed. “Each night…”

“My…” Cleopatra leaned over the girl, keeping her wooden Godhood from penetrating deep and harming her, to wrap an arm around Shanti’s stomach and cup a breast in one hand. She leaned further until her own pushed into the girl’s back and her chin rested over Shanti’s shoulder, close enough that their cheeks touched. “You should have said something, Shanti. I might have invited you into my bed sooner.”

“I – I did not dare think it possible,” Shanti whispered breathily. “M – My Queen, I… please, do not tease me longer. I want this. I have waited for this so long…”

Unspoken was that Shanti had served her, that she had made no request in her life before now, only that Cleopatra take her quickly and not deny her release. It was an impertinent request, but one so heartfelt that Cleopatra could not deny it.

“It will hurt but a moment, Shanti. Are you prepared?”

“I have been prepared for so long, my Queen. I have dreamt of this moment. I am ready.”

“Good.” Kissing the girl’s shoulder, Cleopatra whispered, “Remember, do not give in to pleasure without warning me. You must do this for me, Shanti. It is more important than you know.”

“I – I will not let you down.”

“I know.” Another kiss, this time upon her neck. “It is why I chose you for this.”

Without warning, in the hopes that it might be over with, Cleopatra thrust her hips forward, spearing through and taking Shanti’s maidenhood in one movement. Though there was a gasp of pain and a tear that fell upon the floor, her handmaiden knelt firm, holding her position as Cleopatra did the same, allowing her to accustom herself to the sensation.

It did not take Shanti long to drift from pain to pleasure. As Cleopatra knew, the two were not always so disconnected. After a minute to recover, Shanti moved first, pushing back onto her and whimpering with a heady mix of pain and pleasure.

Cleopatra chuckled. Her partner was so impatient. It was endearing.

Moving quickly, Cleopatra drew back, almost enough to leave Shanti entirely – something which drew a horrified gasp from the girl – only to thrust back in thereafter, turning that gasp to a ragged and throaty moan. The motion repeated, Shanti finding her pace and pushing back to meet her, joining Cleopatra’s next thrust and causing their thighs to slap together.

Reaching under, Cleopatra cupped Shanti’s neck and drew her head up, blowing hot air into the shell of her ear. Shanti trembled, even as Cleopatra hooked her other hand under her stomach to play with the girl’s clit.

“Is it everything you dreamt of, Shanti?”

“Ah – Hah – M – My Queen, I… ah…” Shanti swallowed past Cleopatra’s fingers, entire body trembling and legs spreading just a little wider. “I – It is more. It is so much more! You are – You are within me, my Queen.”

“Not a Queen here, Shanti,” she purred. “You have dedicated yourself to me, remember?”

“My Goddess!” Shanti cried. “I dedicate myself to Cleopatra VII Philopator, my Queen and Goddess.”

Through the lust, Cleopatra felt Shanti’s walls clamping down on her – something that ought to have not been possible, owing to that her wooden `Godhood` was in name only. And yet it was, and she could feel the slick heat of her partner, as well as the tantric power that flooded through them.

It was working. Everything was coming to fruition.

“I claim you, Shanti,” Cleopatra said, panting now as she laid over her handmaiden. It was more than she had ever experienced before, to be stimulated so wholly, both in body and in spirit. It was… It was as Shanti had said, so much more than Cleopatra might have imagined. Still, the words needed to be said. “I accept – ah – your dedication. I – In the name of Cleopatra VII Philopator, I accept your devotion.”

The wood within her swelled and pulsed, drawing a hiss. Her eyes closed, breath gasping out wet and warm onto the back of Shanti’s neck. Sweat poured from her, soaking her body and Shanti’s beneath her. Their breath came out hot and misty and Shanti’s arms buckled. She fell but caught herself on one elbow, face pressed down into oil, milk and sweat as they each struggled to breathe.

“I – I am close!” Shanti warned. “M – My Queen, I cannot hold it! Please, I beg you, finish soon or I shall fail you!”

“I am close as well,” Cleopatra whispered. “Together, it must be together.” The release of tantric energy, the moment where the body and spirit sang as one. It was not so simple a task as it sounded and Cleopatra prepared herself, thrusting harder and harder to push herself to the edge. “Hold, Shanti,” she whispered. “Hold!”

“M – My – C- Cleopatra!” Shanti wept her name. “I cannot! I cannot wait!”

So close. She was close. Shanti’s walls were gripping her so hard – gripping _her_ and not mere wood and varnish. Cleopatra felt something stir within her stomach and rush downward. It was there, her release felt in the tingling below that she had never experienced before.

“Nooo!” Shanti wailed, tensing. “My Queen, forgive me!”

“Now, Shanti! Together!”

She had timed her moment well, for no sooner had the words passed her lips did Shanti scream in ecstasy and clamp down on her. Simultaneously, Cleopatra felt her own release come rushing like a great wave.

Inside her, the hieroglyphs upon the phallus flared to life, sucking, absorbing and drawing in all of the tantric power that came from both Shanti and her orgasm, cried out into the still air. With a dedication, that might normally have rushed to the chosen Goddess, empowering her. Without, the hieroglyphs she had so painstakingly researched and designed in the private hours flared to life.

It was like an explosion inside her.

Something shifted south, flooding her body. Cleopatra convulsed and then screamed as something – something wonderful – was dragged down to her core and expelled. Heat flooded from her and into Shanti, an act that should have been in itself impossible as Cleopatra felt her… her _shaft_ expel its seed directly into the girl’s fertile womb.

Shanti’s ragged moan tore through the room. “It’s filling me,” she gasped. “How-? How is my Queen filling me with her essence!?”

How indeed. Cleopatra hunched over the girl and thrust one last time, pumping yet more of her impossible seed forth, feeling her shaft twitch and pulse, not with energy but with warm flesh and tingly pleasure.

Needing to see it, needing to know, Cleopatra drew out of the girl and fell back onto her behind.

There, between her legs and standing on end, slick with her juices and Shanti’s, a perfectly formed penis stood at attention, smooth and elegant, but unmistakably flesh and not the wood it had been before. Following its thick shaft down to the base, Cleopatra smiled as she saw it attached to her not by virtue of being pushed inside, but by skin, muscle and life itself.

It was hers. It was real.

“What is -” Shanti recovered from where she had fallen on her side, white semen leaking from her wet sex. Her eyes looked back, locked onto Cleopatra’s new appendage with awe and just a little fear. “But how-? Did we – Is this heresy we have committed?”

“Blasphemy and heresy,” Cleopatra spat. “What are such things in the face of duty? With this, I shall save Egypt. With this, I shall have the power of the divine.” She would _become_ divine, or as divine. “And you, Shanti, shall have a blessing most honoured for your service. Arise, Shanti, no longer a mere handmaiden, but the first of my priestesses. My High Priestess.”

“M – My Queen… No, my Goddess.” Shanti turned on the spot, legs as jelly as she fell to place her forehead against the ground. “I will serve and follow you until the end of my days.” She swallowed. “Does this – Is it the same as the other Goddesses?”

A good question and one that was not so easily answered. Though real, Cleopatra did not know how it might compare to that granted by a Goddess. “Weaker, I would say. Though the ritual was successful, the difference between the power granted by one coupling with you and the power granted to a Goddess by the dedications of hundreds, is as vast as the desert itself.”

Such power was guarded jealously, of course.

“Then… is it that you need more?” Shanti asked. “I would lay with you as many times as required!”

Cleopatra spared a fond and amused look for her new High Priestess. “Yes, Shanti. I am sure you would. But such power is not limitless, and you are not an oasis without a bottom. You must rest and recuperate, and never shall you have a release as powerful as your first. There is power in one’s virginity. It is why the Gods have ever craved it so.”

“Then… a virgin? Who?” Shanti asked. “This endeavour is fraught with peril, my Queen, and I know not of many that I would trust with the knowledge. Not while you are not yet in your ascendancy.”

“You speak well, Shanti. It would not do for knowledge of this to be shared before I am ready.” Cleopatra smiled. “In that regard, there are but two I can think of.”

 

* * *

 

Nefertari and Nerfertiti stepped into Cleopatra’s chambers ahead of Shanti, who stood with her head bowed by the door. Nefertari, being the eldest, held herself with more confidence, green eyes piercing through the sunlight streaming into the room and finding Cleopatra quickly, sat at her wooden desk with a brush in hand, ink staining the pages before her.

Ten and six cycles of age, Nefertari was a girl coming into her womanhood, tall and curvaceous, yet still lacking the quiet confidence of Cleopatra, almost two decades her senior. Nefertari wore her hair long and down to the centre of her back, so dark the black might have been mistaken for blue and shining in the midday sun. Her skin the colour of papyrus and her eyes painted black with kohl, Nefertari stood before her sister, hands on her hips.

In comparison to Nefertari, Nefertiti would always look the younger and shyer, even if that was not always true. Only a year younger, she was a full head shorter, not to mention curiously lacking in the bust department. At least for her age. There was an innocence to her kohl-rimmed eyes that made her seem younger still, and the way in which she hid in her sister’s shadow did not help. Nefertiti’s hair was also held in short plaits, giving her an even more youthful air.

Both were dressed as Shanti, though their clothes bore finer quality, as was expected.

“Mother,” Nefertari said, bowing her head. “Your handmaiden says you have summoned us. Nefertiti was in her lessons with the priestesses. Has something worrisome occurred?”

“Not quite, daughter.” Cleopatra turned and brushed her cream robes aside.

Her member stood tall and erect. Standing now, the girls could see easily how it had grown from her clit, standing proud above her slit and humming with the power of a Goddess-given cock. That, they knew, should be impossible. The tools given by the Goddesses could only be called upon through dedication to a given deity and were in themselves creations of pure energy. They were not flesh and blood as her own was.

The two girls, her daughters, gasped.

“M – Mother,” Nefertari whispered. “What have you done-? If the Gods should hear-”

“They will hear,” she said, “In time. One such as this cannot be kept hidden forever. The Gods shall learn, and I shall be punished…” Her eyes fell on them. “Unless I am strong enough to face them on equal footing.”

“They would think to kill you,” Nefertari said. “Or at the least to bind you to their will. They guard their power jealously.”

“Of course they do. They have become lazy and glut of their power and seek to maintain it at all costs.” Though she had committed one blasphemy, she would not make a worse one by suggesting all of Egypt’s problems lay at their feet, only most. “Egypt is dying my daughters. Despite all that we do, our proud land is on the verge of collapse and our Gods do nothing. Action must be taken.”

“But to become as one?” Nefertiti whispered, voice fragile. “The blasphemy-”

“You forget your teachings,” Cleopatra interrupted. “In the beginning there was nothing, Nun, and only from that nothingness did Atum, first of the Gods, create herself. She spat the air, Shu, and the water, Tefnut, from her mouth. The Gods would have us believe there can be no more but remember that they asked the permission of no one to forge themselves.” Cleopatra gestured to her hard member. “All I have done is follow in the footsteps of Atum. To claim this blasphemy is to accuse the Gods themselves of the same.”

Nefertari and Nefertiti looked to one another. As always, it was Nefertari who took the lead.

“You would need vast amounts of tantric power for such a ritual. I see that Shanti has provided the base, but you would need more – ah…” Her eyes grew wide. “Blood of my blood, life of my life. As Atum spat forth Shu and Tefnut, birthing the Gods, you would seek the same with us?”

Nerfertiti jumped and then flushed red unto the roots of her hair.

Nefertari was far more composed, watching her mother watch her and waiting for her to confirm it.

“Yes.” Cleopatra acknowledged her daughter’s intellect with a nod of the head. “Should you be willing, and only then, I would reinforce my power with that of yours. You are, to my knowledge, pure and untouched.”

“I am,” Nefertari said. “As is Nefertiti. But mother, I would plead that you spare my sister this.”

“What?” Nefertiti looked to her elder, shocked. “I – I am not afraid! I will accept it to help Egypt. M – Mother will not harm me, I am sure.”

“It is not mother I fear harming you,” Nefertari said, meeting Cleopatra’s eyes.

Cleopatra understood. Her daughter feared what the Gods might do and was right to do so. She wished to keep her sister from this as long as possible, and Cleopatra could not fault her it. Were it possible, she would have kept both of them away from her at this time.

“I would accept this, Tari.”

“Then I offer myself.” Tari strode forward, reaching up to her shoulders and letting her dress fall free. She stepped out of the linen that lay on the floor, padding naked across the floor towards her, hips swaying with quiet confidence and eyes locked firmly on Cleopatra’s.

Her daughter was strong. Brave. Cleopatra rose, prouder than she had ever been before. “You serve Egypt well, my daughter. With this power granted not by the whims of some Goddess, but taken as my own, and your power added to it, Egypt might finally be ours to reclaim – not some petty vassal state to the Greco empire.”

Nefertari was so obviously nervous, her nipples standing hard and on end, and yet she nodded firmly and without hesitation. “I am ready, mother.”

 _My little warrior,_ Cleopatra thought, taking her daughter’s hand and leading her toward the bed in the centre of the room. Shanti followed, Nefertiti with her, both curious and, in Shanti’s case, no doubt dripping with arousal.

Sitting Nefertari down, Cleopatra let her own robes fall, watching her daughter’s eyes grow wide as she looked down her mother’s body. “It is not so different from your own,” Cleopatra said, laying a gentle hand on Tari’s shoulder and pushing her back. The girl fell flat, legs between Cleopatra’s and just a little fear in her eyes as she looked down to the hard and erect cock brushing against her stomach. “Do not fear,” Cleopatra said, leaning in to kiss her softly. “I will be as gentle as no other can be. You are in safe hands with me, my little Tari.”

“D – Do not call me that, mother.” Tari’s cheeks flushed.

“Ah, but you have always been my little Tari.” Cupping her cheek again, Cleopatra leaned in, kissing her softly, slowly. Only a peck at first, enough to loosen the girl’s muscles and show her but a taste of what was to come.

Tari was startled at it by first but clearly did not feel the expected disgust. That seemed to surprise her, though not Cleopatra. Leaning in again, she pressed her lips to her daughters more firmly, holding them there and moulding her mouth to Tari’s. Cleopatra was no amateur where as her daughter, while a brave warrior, was inexperienced in matters of the flesh.

Nefertari’s mouth opened and a small moan came forth.

Taking the opportunity, Cleopatra leaned in once more, capturing her daughter’s mouth and this time pushing her tongue inside. Again, Tari flinched, but upon finding only pleasure at the touch of her mother’s tongue, she soon settled into it. A tentative hand came up to touch Cleopatra’s shoulder, and upon finding no reproach, that hand reached around to tangle in Cleopatra’s hair.

When she drew back, her daughter’s eyes were lidded, her green eyes hazy through her thick kohl-lined lashes. Cleopatra ran a thumb over Tari’s lower lip, feeling the moisture there, and how Tari pursed her lips to kiss her thumb.

“Does it please you, Tari?”

“I – It should not but…” Nefertari’s eyes flicked away. “Mother is… most practiced.”

With a soft laugh, Cleopatra leaned down to kiss her again, then dragged her lips from Nefertari’s down to her chin, kissing her way over the cusp and onto the underside of her daughter’s neck. Nefertari moved by instinct, by motions long born into humanity, arching her back to seek more of the tongue and lips brushing over her throat.

“M – Mother,” she gasped.

“I told you, Tari, this is no mere ritual. I will not use my flesh and blood and throw it aside. If we are to do this, you shall experience pleasure like no other.” Cleopatra planted a kiss at the juncture between her daughter’s throat and her breastbone, smiling as she felt Tari’s frantic pulse. “Do you want it, Tari? Would you have me continue?”

Nefertari looked away, suddenly shy at the thought of Shanti and Titi watching her.

“I – If it pleases you, mother.”

“Oh?” Cleopatra brought one hand between Nefertari’s legs, smiling as her daughter gasped and dug her heels into the sheets. Her fingers came away very wet. “I do not believe it is only I that is pleased, Nefertari. Your lips may lie but your body is honest.”

“M – Mother,” Nefertari groaned, face flushed. “D – Do not tease me so…”

Smiling, Cleopatra placed a kiss onto Nefertari’s breast, directly over her wildly beating heart. “My apologies, Tari. You are correct. Let me earn my forgiveness in your cries, then.” Kissing her way lower, Cleopatra breathed hot air over one of Tari’s nipples. The already hard nub hardened further, standing so eagerly on end that it was like a dagger.

It also shook as she did, trembling as her daughter vibrated under her, be it with fear or nervous excitement. Running one hand down to soothe her daughter’s stomach, Cleopatra used her other to play with Tari’s other breast and closed her lips over the one dancing before her.

“Ah-” Nefertari dug her fingers into the sheets. “Hm. M – Mmh.”

Cleopatra delighted in the little sounds her daughter made, kissing, nibbling and teasing Tari’s sensitive flesh as only someone used to pleasure could. She drew back, sucking and drawing the flesh up into her mouth. Tari’s back arched as she tried to follow, lifting her shoulders up off the bed, only to whimper as Cleopatra drew away with a `popping` sound.

Tari’s hand flew to her mouth a moment later, shame and embarrassment flaring as she heard the needy little sound that had crossed her lips. So innocent and pure. For all that Tari called Titi the innocent one, she was no less sheltered.

“Worry not, my sweet. I shall not leave you wanting.”

For minutes, she lavished attention on her daughter’s bosom, switching from one breast to the next and back again, leaving her girl a writhing mess on the bed, soon covered in sweat and turning the sheets see-through. Those that she had not pushed off with her feet, which would push up and down, kneading at the sheets as her upper body was bathed in kisses.

Sensing that her daughter was thoroughly relaxed, Cleopatra moved lower to trail a line of kisses from the valley of Tari’s bosom down her taut stomach, dipping her tongue into her daughter’s navel as she went. The briefest patch of hair lay upon Tari’s delectable mound, as soft and fragrant as her oiled body, mixed with sweat and heady with lust and need. Cleopatra kissed it, then tossed her hair to one side and settled lower, face disappearing to Tari’s eyes, over her breasts and down between her legs.

“M – Mother!” Tari cried. “That is not necessar- ah!” Tari’s world became nothingness for a moment, Nun, as even Atum had once seen it. The moisture and air that Cleopatra blew across her sex robbed her mind of coherent thought and she pushed her feet down, lifting her hips up off the sheets.

Cleopatra’s hand found its wat atop her stomach, pushing her back down as her lips closed in on those of her daughter, pushing and probing and finding those spots which elicited the greatest response, a task made simple by Nefertari’s shrieks and moans.

“Ah! O – Oh! Y – yes! Ah! Hn! Mnh!” Nefertari had bitten down upon her hand, face red and slick with sweat as she tried futilely to hide her arousal. “Hmmm!” she shrieked, sound muffled into her hand.

Silly Tari. There was no hiding the arousal that Cleopatra could see, feel and taste.

“T – Tari…” Nefertiti whispered, shocked and, if Cleopatra’s eyes did not deceive her, a little aroused herself. Her feet moved and fidgeted on the floor, toes drawing across the marble as she struggled to take her eyes off the scene before her. “Does it feel that good?” she asked. “She screams almost as though she were in pain.”

“Come, Titi.” Cleopatra beckoned her youngest up onto the bed, and Titi wasted no time, placing one knee atop the sheets and crawling until she was beside them, looking down on awe at Nefertari’s writhing body. “Does she look in pain to you, Titi? The greatest pleasure can feel as pain, but I assure you she experiences no ill.” Cleopatra pushed her youngest down beside her eldest. “Lay with her, Titi. Lay with her and see for yourself.”

Nefertiti did so, keeping her dress on as she laid down and held onto her older sister’s side, their faces close. Nefertari had not noticed, too lost and almost in tears as Cleopatra moved in once more to drag her tongue up her slit with slow, insistent motions. Pearls of moisture were collected from her and swallowed, as sweet and fresh as rain on a warm day.

“Tari,” Nefertiti whispered. “Your body is so hot!”

“Titi -?” Nefertari’s eyes opened and she seemed shocked to see her sister by her. “What are you – Hngh! I – ah – b – but mother said. Ahhh!”

“Mother is not touching me,” Titi said, and there was a hint of envy there, Cleopatra felt. Or curiosity. “Does it feel good, Tari? Does it really feel that good?”

“Hmmmmm!” Tari moaned, biting down and nodding.

“Do as I did earlier, Titi. Did you see me feast upon her bosom?”

Nefertiti nodded quickly and brought her knees under her, leaning over her sister’s body and closing her lips eagerly over one of Nefertari’s dancing breasts. Not knowing what to do, she began to suck loudly, kneading the flesh with her other hand.

Nefertari’s eyes snapped open and she cried out, arching her back under the twin assault.

“That is it, Titi,” Cleopatra urged, pushing a finger in and out of her daughter’s wet body. “You please your sister so, and she cries out her joy. Do not stop! Shanti,” she called. “Join her. Aid my daughter and show her your devotion.”

“W – What!?” Nefertari cried, shaking badly. “That is not necces-”

“As you wish, my Goddess.” Shanti was up on the bed in a second, her clothing having somehow vanished in the intervening time. Shanti’s dress had not even touched the floor before she had Nefertari’s teat between her lips.

Nefertiti, eager to learn, emulated Shanti and nibbled on Tari’s other.

“Ahhhh!” Nefertari shrieked. “T – Too much! It is too much! Ah!”

“It is just enough, I would say.” Cleopatra rose up to her knees and positioned herself well, drawing Tari’s hips up off the bed and into her lap. The tip of her cock touched against Tari’s entrance, and wet heat washed over her. “If I said this might hurt a moment, would you hear me?”

“Ah! Ngh. Mahhh…” Nefertari’s head rocked from side to side, spittle flying from her lips as she bucked and held onto the bed for dear life, stomach all but convulsing with pleasure. “Ahhh!”

“I suppose that answers my question. Be brave, daughter. It will last but a moment.”

Cleopatra pushed in and stole Nefertari’s virginity in a heartbeat.

If there was pain, it was swallowed by lust. The barrier between the two was no so far apart and one could outweigh the other. Nefertari never once showed her discomfort and Cleopatra smiled, proud. Though the tightness of her daughter’s body called for movement, hungry and fast, Cleopatra held herself still, stroking one thumb over Tari’s stomach to help her relax the muscles so firmly clamped around the sudden intruder her body was not used to.

Slowly, after a minute of stillness, she felt her daughter’s body relax. Her legs fell slack, one resting on Cleopatra’s shoulder and the other wrapped around her hip, holding her in place. More, Nefertari began to move herself, rolling her hips without being told.

So fast a learner! Her line was blessed with Nefertari and Nefertiti both.

 _Egypt will be blessed with us as well,_ she thought, beginning to thrust her hips.

“Ah!” Nefertari’s mouth opened wide, a line of saliva connecting her lips as she stared wide-eyed toward the ceiling. “I – Inside,” she whispered. “You are inside me! I can feel it! Feel you!”

“And I you,” Cleopatra purred, dragging Tari’s hips into her with every thrust, causing the slap of flesh on flesh to ring out around the room, split only by Nefertari’s cries and the sound of Nefertiti suckling loudly in her sister’s teat. “Relax into me, Tari. Good – Yes, that is good. Like that.” Supporting her weight, Cleopatra did all the work. “Focus only on the pleasure. Allow me to take control of your body. Does it feel good?”

“Hm!” Tari nodded quickly, biting down so hard on her hand it was a wonder blood was not shed.

“Use your words, Tari. Look how your sister frets for you. Tell her how it feels.”

Nefertari cracked one eye open, peering down at her sister, sucking on her flesh. “It’s so good, Titi!” Tari said, almost weeping. “I cannot – My mind is drowning in the pleasure!” A desperate, keening whine escaped her. “I can hardly think!”

“Is it truly that good-?” Titi asked, whispering the words against Tari’s nipples.

“Nothing compares to it! Nothing! A – Ahhh!”

Tari was close. Cleopatra could feel it in every tremble, every gasp, but more than that she could feel it in the tantric energy swirling around their bed, filling the air with so much energy it hummed to her senses. Her cock – her tantric cock – thrummed and vibrated inside of Tari, driving her wild and filling their bodies with warmth.

 _Into me,_ Cleopatra thought, gritting her teeth. _The power flows not to some Goddess, but into me. I am a vessel being filled. I – I feel as though I might burst!_

She would not – could not – for all of Egypt depended upon her. Sweat slick upon her brow, Cleopatra hunched forward, pressing her lips to Nefertari’s ankle and gripping onto her hips, thrusting harder and harder, plunging her hard flesh into her daughter with wet sounds and the slap of skin against skin.

“Together, Tari! We must come as one. You and I. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh.”

“Blood – ah – blood of my bloo – hmmm!”

“Fear not the words! Show me your devotion with action!” With one final thrust, Cleopatra buried herself deep inside and threw her head back. “Ah!”

Nefertari came at the exact same time, shrieking her orgasm as her body rose up, bending almost in two on the bed. Her walls locked down on Cleopatra, drawing her in harder, or so it felt, as her shaft bulged within her daughter, growing larger and larger still with all the energy it had accumulated in their list.

“It’s growing!” Tari cries, hands upon her stomach. “It is growing inside of m – meee!”

Like a well springing up inside her, Cleopatra felt the tantric power flow through her, over her, into her. It was a reservoir filling faster and faster, a vessel left out as what felt like all the waters of the Nile were flowing into it. Like the vessel, she was soon filled, and Cleopatra wondered for a moment if it might overcome her, if she might break.

And then the dam burst, deep within her daughter’s body.

“Ahhh!” Cleopatra moaned, falling forward onto her hands as her body finally found its release, pouring her seed out of her and into Nefertari in a deluge of white. The white, she soon realised, was her vision failing her. Blinking past spots of bright light, Cleopatra could only bite her lip and thrust jerkily into her daughter, who wept with lust and need, locking both legs behind Cleopatra’s buttocks and holding on for dear life.

Soon, her daughter could hold no more, and Cleopatra drew out, watching as semen so white and pure it might well have been liquid clouds, poured out of her daughter’s slit and onto the sheets. More shot forth from her engorged and powerfully humming cock, splashing over Nefertari’s stomach and the bottoms of her breasts, and a little over the cheeks of both Shanti and Nefertiti.

It stopped soon after, Nefertari drawing deep and ragged breaths before she fell back, legs twitching and body shaking in the throes of her climax. Her body was caked from her thighs up to her breasts in Cleopatra’s essence, essence which Shanti lapped at hungrily and which even Titi, in a moment of courage, sampled with a finger dipped down into Nefertari’s belly button, and then up into her mouth. The girl’s eyes lit up.

Satisfied, truly satisfied, Cleopatra sat back and looked down on her majestic self. Before, it had been alive and yet tenuous, a connection she felt might fail at any moment and held in place only through strict desire and disbelief.

Now, it felt alive. Powerful.

Permanent.

More than that, she felt younger and rejuvenated, and believed that if she were to look at herself in a mirror, her reflection would confirm the same. Touching her fingers to the skin of her face, she found those early signs of ageing, the tiniest of imperfections, to be gone. Her skin was soft and plump, as it had not been since she birthed two daughters. She had been born anew, brought back to her prime and at a power she had never once held.

She, Cleopatra VII Philopator, Divine Queen-Eternal of Egypt, had ascended. This, Cleopatra knew, was how Egypt would rise once more, not with Gods who cared more for themselves than for the people, but with a divine ruler that would reclaim their glory.

Gently, reluctantly, Cleopatra tampered down on the aura of divinity that exuded from her. Though it was hers now to wield and use at will, modesty held its own regards. Her tantric banner, a divine and glowing band of hieroglyphs that revolved about her shaft and marked her as divine, faded into nothingness. Not gone. Only hidden.

Watching her daughter shake on the bed, moaning as Shanti began to lick her slick and sodden folds, Cleopatra crossed her legs and gestured toward her still-hard cock, now covered in seed, seed which Nefertiti was eyeing hungrily.

“Come, Nefertiti. Feast more than just your eyes if you wish it.”

Her youngest daughter was laid down atop her legs before she knew it, engulfing Cleopatra in her small but eager mouth. Rubbing Titi’s short plaits, Cleopatra looked on fondly at her two girls, basking in her divine essence. They had done well. For now, she would allow them time to rest, and to enjoy the fruits of their labour.

Above and around them, locked in their statues and murals, the Gods watched in silence.


	2. Divine Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ascended as a Goddess in her own right, Cleopatra's power is fragile. There is work to be done, if she is to unite Egypt and bring about a new Golden Age for her people - and that will require devout followers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Shanti, come, enough of this.”

“But my Queen – my Goddess…” The correction came swiftly, reverently. Shanti clutched the wet rag between her breasts, hot water running down her body. “It is my duty and my honour to wash you. To do otherwise -”

“It is your duty, yes, but I see that you are as unsteady on your feet as my daughters are. Come and enjoy the water with us. I will not have it otherwise.”

It was close enough to an order than Shanti put the rag down on the side and stepped down into the large basin cut into the marble floor. “As my Goddess commands.”

Nefertari and Nefertiti commented not on the interplay; they were each of them exhausted from the day’s activities and leaning against the edge of the bath, hot water filled with flower petals risen to their dark shoulders and their black hair splayed and floating in the water. Their eyes were closed, their lips parted, and their breasts rose and fell as they drew in air.

So young and inexperienced. It did not surprise her that their stamina might wane, and even if Nefertiti’s innocence remained, she had still been driven to climax after climax through finger and tongue.

A warm body brushed up against Cleopatra’s back, two large breasts bunched up to her skin as hands settled on her shoulders and began to knead her muscles. She sighed and leant back, allowing Shanti to support her weight as her muscles relaxed. “Did I not say you were here to relax, Shanti? So disobedient.”

“Forgive me, my Goddess.” Hmm. To say that while massaging her so. Shanti was in possession of a devious streak. Beyond that, her devotion knew no bounds. Cleopatra nodded and allowed the handmaiden her role. “Forgive me for my impertinence, but did our coupling provide enough tantric energy?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Cleopatra murmured. “On either account. You are not only my handmaiden now, Shanti. You are my High Priestess; matters of faith are yours to ask. The answer, however, would be both yes and no. It was enough to ascend and enough to become a Goddess, but if it comes to matching the power of the existing pantheon… well, I fear that no amount would be enough. They have had thousands of years of devotion from the people of Egypt, even if the last decades have been spent on their knees to the Grecos.”

Shanti’s hands tensed at the mention of the Grecos, or the Grecoromanians to give them their full title. Only for a moment. Her massage continued. “Is it more power you need?”

“Ah. A difficult question, my dear Shanti. More power will always be a boon of course, but I do not believe there will be enough in one lifetime to bring me to the level of Ra or Osiris. Perhaps not even in five lifetimes. That said, more _is_ better, and my position right now is weak. Should the Gods take note, I would be subdued with ease.”

Not killed – not anymore with her own divinity – but there was more than one way to control a God, as the Grecos had shown when they came and established their dominion over Egypt, and when their Gods did the same to Egypt’s own. In her current state, it would not be difficult for a God to trap her within a realm of pleasure, or simply to force their will upon her.

It was why she had chosen Shanti and her two daughters for so dangerous a ritual. A single whispered name or a misspoken devotion to another Goddess would have brought their attention down on her, and retribution would have been swift indeed. Her position was weak, tentative, and she needed the service of those she could trust.  

That number was worryingly small. Had she asked for trust against Caesar or the Grecoromanian envoys, almost every servant in the palace would have been at her beck and call, but to go against the Gods? Few would accept that, let alone willingly take part.

Shanti’s hands roamed lower, over Cleopatra’s flat stomach and below. “You may make of me an offering if you wish it, my Goddess.”

Cleopatra’s hands caught Shanti’s. “I appreciate the offer, but you are tired.” She drew Shanti around and before her, then gently pushed until she was leaning back against the edge of the bath like Nefertari and Nefertiti. “It will serve me none if you work yourself to exhaustion. Rest a little. Do not force me to make an order of it.”

Once she was sure Shanti would not resist, Cleopatra smiled and leaned back beside her, sighing as her body sank into the water. Beneath it, she felt Shanti’s hand alight on her thigh but let the matter go.

“How shall we win you more power?”

“Did I not say you were to rest, Shanti?”

“It is my body that aches, and I am resting that. Also, you told me matters of faith are mine to ask.”

“So I did.” Cleopatra laughed, delighted at the show of cheek. “Very well, then, we shall speak of the future and of what must be done. In the short term, I must consolidate my position. I have power enough to manifest a Goddess granted phallus for any who would speak my name and dedicate a ritual to me. Should the servants choose to do so, I would draw power from them even if I am not personally involved.”

“Could this stretch across all Egypt?”

“Not quite so far, not as I am right now. The palace certainly, and perhaps some parts of Alexandria – those closest to us – but no further. In time, that will change, but the rate of which shall depend on how many devote their couplings to me.”

“I know of some servants who would be willing,” Shanti said, “Some who are as loyal as I, or close to it.”

“It is a danger if they should reveal what we do to the other Goddesses.”

Shanti’s hand rubbed over her thigh and down between, and Cleopatra allowed her legs to part, breathing a warm sigh. “There are some I know would never tell, my Goddess. They love you as only the loyal can.”

“I shall trust your judgment, Shanti, but you will bring them to me first. I would see with my own eyes. In the meantime, it is best to draw power from those close. I can, of course, draw power from any I lay with, but you and my daughters can do the same, and in the passion of the moment who is to say they did not mishear when you whisper my name instead of another Gods?”

“Will not the Gods know?”

“Only if their name is invoked. Tell your partner that you shall make the dedication, then whisper my name quietly.” Cleopatra sighed happily as two of Shanti’s fingers dipped inside her. “None shall be the wiser.”

“Could we not organise a grand ritual, then?” Shanti asked, leaning into her side and laying featherlight kisses along her shoulder and neck. “A High Priestess directs the dedication on a festival day while hundreds make love in the temple. If we organised one for Hathor, then had me as the High Priestess dedicate to you, would not the combined energy of the city be yours? The masses would be too distracted to notice who it went to.”

“Such would be a dangerous game, Shanti – ah~” Her head fell back as Shanti’s fingers curled. “I would not advise such deception. The temples and festivals are linked to each Goddess by the belief of the people. If I should steal from one, they would certainly notice – and their response would be furious indeed. Hm.” She bit her lip and raised her hips to give Shanti better access. “It is safer to work in secret. Caution is our ally, patience our shield.”

Even if it would be much slower, the power would be certain and safe, so long as Nefertari and Nefertiti chose their partners carefully. Hopefully, she would have enough to stand on her own two feet by the time the Goddesses noticed. And hopefully then, it would only be one at a time who did, or she would be in far too much trouble.

Water sloshed to her left. Cleopatra opened one eye, looking over to Nefertiti, who had awoken from her nap and was now leaning against her side, looking down her naked body at Shanti’s hand buried between her thighs. Nefertiti was nibbling on her lower lip, eyes lidded.

“Titi,” Cleopatra said, earning an embarrassed squeak. “Is something the matter…?”

“N – No!” Nefertiti looked away.

“Do you perhaps long for some attention yourself?”

Her daughter’s cheeks darkened. “No.”

“Silly child.” Reaching over, Cleopatra drew her youngest onto her lap, pushing Shanti aside gently. Nefertiti struggled but not overmuch. It was obvious she did not wish to break free. “After our pleasure earlier, I thought you would know you may be more open. If you long for my touch, you need only speak it.”

Balancing Titi’s small bottom between her thighs, she reached around and down with one hand, delving between her thin legs as her other hand cupped Nefertiti’s chin and angled her head upwards. The poor girl’s face was red, her eyes wide and hazy with desire. Cleopatra spared her the wait, pushing two fingers inside at the same time she leaned forward to capture her lips.

Nefertiti moaned into her mouth.

“I am too spent to take you now, Titi.” It would also be painful in the water, despite expectations. Water had a tendency to wash away the body’s natural lubrication, leaving a woman ironically dry to the entrance of a phallus. “But there is no reason I cannot bring you to your climax once more.” Curling her fingers inside, she rubbed her thumb against Titi’s clit, making the girl buck and writhe in the water, splashing it left and right. “Does that feel good?”

“Y – Yes! It feels – ah!”

So young. So sensitive. Cleopatra watched as Shanti, bereft of a partner, stalked over to the still sleeping Nefertari and delved beneath the water. It did not take long for her eldest daughter’s eyes to snap open, nor for her to moan and lean back, pushing a hand beneath the water to stroke the head between her thighs.

Her own power stirred within her, telling her that she could manifest her divine cock if she so wished. She held back, knowing that her children needed their rest, even if they did not recognise it themselves. Kissing Titi’s neck again, she brought her lips higher, up over her chin to one of her ears. Blowing some hair aside, she licked at the inner shell.

“Ah! Mnh!”

“Did you hear what I was saying to Shanti?” Cleopatra whispered, punctuating the question with a wet tongue pushed into Titi’s ear canal. Her daughter’s legs kicked wildly beneath the water. “You are more than free to take a servant or two yourself, Titi, but I must make one thing clear. You may use a cock granted by me however you should please, but you are not to accept one here.”

Her hand rubbed over Titi’s virgin mound, the two fingers within brushing up against a barrier that had yet to be broken. As always, the tantric power granted by a virgin taking was the greatest, and while she would reap it whether she took Nefertiti or another did with a cock granted by her, there was still something personal about it. Something she was reluctant to share.

“This,” Cleopatra whispered, “Is mine to take.”

“Y – Yes, mother! It’s yours!”

“Good.” Smiling, she nibbled Titi’s ear again, bringing her other hand down to massage one of her small breasts, squeezing the sensitive nub between finger and thumb. “Such a good girl, Titi. Be patient. I will take you in time. Until then, you may feel what it is like to take another.”

“You?” Nefertiti asked deliriously, longingly. “Can it be you?”

“Oh my.” Cleopatra laughed, both surprised and flattered by the question. And, if she dared to say it, quite aroused by the idea. To have Nefertiti take her with her own goddess-granted cock? It was something she hadn’t considered. “That’s an interesting thought. As for whether it will happen. Well, that depends on how good you are. Doesn’t it…?”

Nefertiti cried something that might have been a plea, an impassioned promise or just a collection of wet syllables. Her body arched against Cleopatra’s, hips and stomach rising up off her lap as her body clamped down on the fingers within her. All the while, Cleopatra licked and bit at the skin of her daughter’s neck, leaving wet patterns across her throat and the underside of her chin, and _feeling_ Titi’s pulse beat wildly against her lips.

It was a slow descent from her climax, with Nefertiti coming down physically first and then emotionally, curling up in Cleopatra’s lap and leaning into her. Shyly, hesitantly, she kissed at the expanse of smooth skin before her face, looking up at her mother to see if the action upset her.

Cleopatra smiled back down, sliding her fingers out but still rubbing gently at her daughter’s mound. “You need not ask permission from me, Titi.”

Emboldened, Nefertiti latched her lips over one of Cleopatra’s teats and began to suckle. Not at all like she had as a child, but with flicks of her tongue, sucking motions and a small hand stroking and squeezing at the other.

Sighing in bliss, Cleopatra laid a hand on Titi’s head and lay back, watching over her daughter’s head as Shanti had Nefertari bent over the edge of the bath, alternating between pushing three fingers into her slit and occasionally leaning down to lick at her bum hole. Nefertari had her eyes closed and was panting harshly, balanced on her elbows on the edge of the basin as Shanti stood behind her.

Gasping suddenly, Nefertari’s body went stiff. Shanti latched a hand onto the small of her back, holding her in place and going down with her tongue. Nefertari opened her mouth and groaned throatily, shaking and collapsing against the edge of the bath, all but helpless to move. Shanti showed no mercy and followed her eldest daughter, pinning her against the side and lapping up the river of juices that flowed out from her quivering slit.

It was nice to relax for a while, even if they hadn’t much recovered. With all the fear and the worry over whether the Gods would realise what she had done, moments like this, with just her girls and with Shanti, were a welcome relief.

Nefertari fell back into the water once Shanti was done with her, twisting her lithe body as she did so that she sat against Cleopatra’s side, bodily leaning against her for support. Tari’s cheek rested on her shoulder and her hot breath panted against Cleopatra’s neck. Proud of her work, Shanti settled herself on Cleopatra’s other side, showing a brief flash of envy for Nefertiti, who had claimed both of her bountiful breasts for herself.

Not wanting either to feel left out, she wrapped an arm around both Tari and Shanti’s shoulders, encouraging them to lean on her. Shanti joined in happily and murmured something loving against her skin.

“You are my most faithful,” Cleopatra said. “Now and for forever. Never shall there be any who share a place in my heart as you do, but do not let that stop you from taking others into your hearts, or your beds. Each time you dedicate your lovemaking to me, it shall be as though I am there with you, and I will draw strength from your connection.”

“It will serve you?” Tari asked sleepily.

“Yes.” Cleopatra frowned as an unwelcome feeling stirred within her. “But you should not force yourself on my account. I do not wish you to lay with another reluctantly, or without passion. That goes for yourself as well, Shanti.”

“Our Goddess is kind,” Shanti whispered.

“Your Goddess remembers what it means to be human, and would bid you see her as such, at least as much as that is possible.” The hand around Tari’s shoulder reached up to cup her head. “I would not have my own flesh and blood refer to me with such a distant title. And you, Shanti, though I know it will be difficult, could you not call me something with more emotion?”

“Hmm.” Shanti smiled dreamily. “But I do not call you a Goddess for your title, nor did I call you Queen because you are my queen. To me, you have always been a Goddess.”

“Ah.” To Cleopatra’s shock, she felt a little heat creep up her neck. The words, so earnest and so quickly delivered, had caught her off guard. “Well, I see. That is well, then.” To think… ah, but it only proved she had chosen the right person to place her faith in. “I will not force your hand then, Shanti. And I… I appreciate your words. As do I appreciate all the three of you have done. Know that you have my protection. Should anyone challenge you, even another God, inform them of that fact. They will know better than to harm you.”

“If a Goddess hears that…”

“Yes.” They would be angry. Furious. “But I would rather I face the wrath of Hathor, Ra or Isis than you or my daughters do the same. As a Goddess myself, I am protected. You are not.”

Shanti nodded. Tari murmured her assent and Titi continued to play within her bosom. The acceptance was implied at least, and she trusted them to know her word was best. If all went well, the Gods might never realise what had happened.

“I do not believe you have told us the ultimate goal of your plan,” Shanti pointed out. “To what aim do we do all this?”

“Have I not? I must have hinted at it, but I suppose it does you harm not to know our full purpose. The Gods have grown lax and have accepted the rule of the Grecoromanian pantheon, allowing our lands to be conquered and subdued in kind. My goal is simple. To conquer our pantheon, force them to action and to throw the Grecoromanian Gods and people out of our land.”

The girls stared at her, even Nefertiti pausing to unlatch from her breasts, mouth open and saliva dripping from her tongue. There could be no blaming them, for while with one word she accepted the impossibility of matching the other Gods through tithe or dedication, she with another claimed her desire to move them to action. To _force_ the Gods of Egypt to act how _she_ wished them to. All of them.

“And from there, we shall usher in a new golden age for Egypt.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Alone in her chambers, dressed in a light gown of white silk, Cleopatra sat at her desk and supped of a small bowl of wine. In her other hand, a golden hieroglyph floated in the air, tiny motes of white light pouring from its edges as though rain from the heavens.

Magic, in so far as one could call it such, had existed since the birth of Egypt. The rituals through which one could requisition a divine cock was one such example, and a ritual almost all knew on some level. Two women could not birth a child without one and calling on the power of a Goddess for that purpose was something mothers taught their children at the age where they might become sexually active.

Many did not think of it as magic, mainly because of how commonplace it was, and if it _was_ magic, then surely it was magic granted by the Gods themselves and none of their own. Such was true, and her own skills in that had come from the Goddess she chose to request power from; Isis, wife of Osiris and mother of Horus.

Now, as a Goddess herself, it seemed she could draw on her own divine energy, though that was weak as expected. Enough perhaps for some protective spells, but nothing compared to the power she had wielded in the past trough Isis.

Of course, it would grow, and in time might eclipse what Isis granted her. Even when she had been loyal to the pantheon herself as a young child, the Gods would only grant what _they_ wished to. The power had always been enough to protect herself but never enough to make a difference.

“That will change soon. I will use all the power at my disposal to save Egypt.”

The hieroglyph fell. The strain of using it had her breaking out in a light sweat. There would be more tantric rituals tonight, either with Shanti or with these servants she promised would be loyal. While it would be safer to remain with Shanti, if she could take one, Shanti take another and then her daughters take two more, that would quadruple the power she gained. It was important they move quickly, but not so quickly as to draw attention. Orgies within the palace were not uncommon and no one would raise question of it, but a Queen was expected to rule. There were other tasks she needed to pay attention to.

And in the back of her mind, she could not help but think she had been discovered already. Not by all the Gods. Ra might no longer care, having long since sequestered herself away and showing precious little of the leadership her position demanded. If Ra knew, Cleopatra was not sure how far she would act. It was arrogant and foolish to assume the others would be as uncaring, however. The pantheon was large, their strengths varied and with the Grecos Gods also now drawing on the strength of Egypt, it was not hard to imagine some resentment at the appearance of another.

Thoth, Goddess of wisdom, was one such possibility. As the Goddess of wisdom, she held unparalleled knowledge of magic and its arts – and was also known to possess knowledge of all the secrets of the world, many unknown even to other Goddesses. Was it possible Thoth knew already? And if so, was the lack of action some tacit sign of approval?

It would be dangerous to assume either way.

Hathor was another, and a far more worrying one. Goddess of sexuality and motherhood, music and dance. As a Goddess who had essentially been _born_ through sexuality – and in a way, motherhood – Cleopatra’s ascension might not have gone unnoticed. She had no interest in `intruding` upon Hathor’s domain, but the Goddess might not see it that way.

Hathor was known for being a mother of all things and a kind Goddess, but kindness might have its limits. It could go either way and Cleopatra truly had no idea what the Goddess might think. Pride as a mother, or anger of a lover scorned?

Finally, there was Isis herself, mother of Egypt and Cleopatra’s original patron Goddess, the one he had most dedicated her sexuality to, who had been present and involved in both the births of Nefertari and Nefertiti, and whose goddess-granted cock had blessed Cleopatra with both.

Out of all the Goddesses, Isis had the possibility of being both the most understanding of her choices, and the most slighted. Even now, Isis might well have noticed how the regular dedications to her had ceased, or how Cleopatra no longer prayed for her power when using magic. While Isis would not know for sure whether she had stopped laying with others or playing with the arts, the sudden cessation might draw her attention, nonetheless.

Cleopatra sighed. “Too many threats, and that is only those from within. Why must we fight among ourselves while the Grecos ravage our land?”

In theory, the Gods of Egypt outnumbered those of the Grecoromanians. While both had their pantheons and both were great in number, Egypt’s had existed for longer and had been tithed over thousands of years. The Grecoromanian Gods were juvenile by comparison, but they were, by nature of their people, more united. Born into a civilisation already falling under the yoke of the empire, Cleopatra had been made to learn of them, no matter her reluctance.

If it were just the Gods against one another, Egypt might win, but alas, the people of Egypt had also been subjugated, and much of the tantric energy tithed to the Gods was being siphoned away by the Grecos pantheon. That their own allowed it…

“No different to my own people bowing before the Grecos. Why should I expect the Gods to be any different?”

A creaking sound from the door drew her attention and she let her tantric energy go. Fortunately, it was Shanti, one of the only ones who would dare enter without making their presence known. Even so, her most loyal servant was on her knees, long legs bare, and feet pointed behind, forehead to the ground.

“Shanti?”

“I have brought those who would serve, my Goddess.”

Behind her, yet still outside the door, three figures could just be seen. Not much in the way of detail, but buxom figures. Curious, Cleopatra sat back in her chair and motioned for Shanti to rise. “Introduce them to me. And close the door behind you, lest we discover prying eyes and ears.”

Rising and doing so, Shanti ushered the girls inside. Three in total, each about the age of Nefertari or perhaps a little older. No greater than nineteen summers. What truly caught her eye, however, was the nature of the girls. They were beastfolk. Or, as some called it, the Godblooded.

Two of them were clearly sisters, made obvious both by how they stuck together and their small and adorable faces. With the blood of sheep yet the body of a woman, they stood on two legs but had hooves instead of feet. That did not upset their balance as they stepped forward. Instead of clothing, they wore their thick wool about their bodies, wrapped across their hips and chests in a facsimile of clothing. The rest had been shaven, leaving behind pale and soft skin. One bore wool the starkest of white, while the other was as black as a moonless night’s sky. Their hair, mimicking their wool, fell in soft ringlets down to their shoulders. Curved horns came from their hair, forming perfect spirals on either side of their faces and tucked backward. Far from appearing intimidating, they gave the twins the appearance of ornaments or even a small crown. Two golden accessories dangled from the tip of each like earrings.

The other also walked on hooves but bore no wool or fur. Instead, her skin was proudly on display, with naught but the sheerest curtains of silk to cover her bountiful breasts – and they truly were generous, far larger than even Cleopatra’s own. Golden adornments to the silk surrounded the beastfolk’s nipples, which even to her eyes appeared swollen and damp. The woman had a motherly air about her, despite her age, and the patches of skin on her sides bore dark marks not unlike a mothering cow. Such made sense, of course, seeing as she was of cow blood. The horns upon her head confirmed it, thicker and darker than those of the sheep girls. Those, too, were capped with golden ornaments set with tiny stones of blue. With thick thighs and wide hips, hers was a visage of motherhood, much like her Goddess, Hathor.

“These three would be most willing to serve you,” Shanti said. “I present to you Tiye and Tema the sheep twins, and Safiya the cowkin.”

The three bowed, Tiye and Tema low and shyly while Safiya offered a more sedate nod of the head, as like to the logistical issues of one so top-heavy bowing as any lack of respect. They remained silent, awaiting her judgment.

“Tell me,” she said, “What inspires those of divine blood to serve one who would be seen as a usurper?” The sheep twins stiffened, though the cowgirl did not. “Speak freely. I would have there be no threat here, not if you are as trustworthy as Shanti suggests.”

It appeared neither of the twins had the courage, and so it fell to Safiya to step forward. “My Queen,” she said, and the title felt purposeful. “Though we are of the God’s blood, our connection to the divine is slight. Your own is much stronger. We would serve because you and your household have ever looked after and cared for us. Tiye and Tema were born here and have known no love other than that which your reign grants.”

“Your words are well spoken but I sense more to them.” Cleopatra held a hand up to stall Shanti as she made to move. “You should not fear my anger, but I would bid you be honest with me. Safiya, you are of Hathor’s blood.”

“That is true.” The beast women bowed, and her large breasts swayed, proof of Hathor’s divine gifts to her. No doubt her milk was pure and nourishing. “Hathor is my Goddess, and I would continue to worship her even after serving you.”

“And yet you’re prepared to dedicate your tithe to me. Tithe born of tantric energy, of sexuality and motherhood – the very domains that Hathor herself considers sacred. Why would you aid me in usurping that which your Goddess calls her own?”

“Because I do not see it as _her_ power being usurped.”

Frowning, Cleopatra leaned her chin upon one hand, elbow on the arm rest of her chair. “Explain.”

“My Goddess has been pushed back by the Grecos pantheon.” Safiya spat the term. “What I would tithe to her is diluted and stolen, and the Gods are… not powerless but held back. Restrained, either through the actions of the Grecos or their own doubts. I know that by accepting you I cut ties with my Goddess, but I believe that should she hear me, she would approve of this choice. To dedicate my tantric power to you is wrong, but to have it stolen by another power is more wrong. Hathor is the Goddess of motherhood, of love and fertility and sexuality; she is a Goddess of Egypt. You are Cleopatra, a daughter of Egypt. It is my belief that Hathor would recognise this.”

“Does your blood tell you this?” Cleopatra asked excitedly. “Is this an omen from beyond?”

“No, my Queen. It is merely my belief, and my hope. I’m sorry.”

“No matter.” It would have been pleasant to have divine confirmation, or even a small sign of support from Hathor, but even the hope of a godblooded one might be better than nothing. If Hathor would truly support her, even in this small way, it was a sign other Goddesses might. “I would accept your dedication, Safiya. And yours, Tiye and Tema. And I will not hold you to worship only myself. You may continue your devotion to the other Goddesses, so long as you keep our actions hidden.”

“It is as you say, my Queen.” Safiya bowed again.

“We will serve,” Tiye, the white twin, said shyly.

“We want to save Egypt,” Tema, the black twin and apparently the bolder, added. “If you can save Egypt, you will save the other Goddesses. For that, we will serve.”

Cleopatra smiled. It was not loyalty to her the likes of which Shanti held, but it was loyalty to her goals – and that was perhaps better still. Personal loyalty could be bought and swayed, but those who worked toward mutual goals would remain staunch allies until those goals were met.

“Then I welcome you into our priesthood, for however long you might stay. Rise and know that you are blessed, and that I will ask no more of you than you would give.” To Safiya, she said, “And should Lady Hathor reach out to you, tell her my hopes are not to usurp, but to bolster.”

Safiya inclined her head. “I will keep your words in my prayers.”

 “Thank you. Shanti, fetch my daughters. It is time they learned how to wield my magic.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Nefertari and Nefertiti stood before her and shot nervous looks at the godblooded waiting patiently nearby. They had lived with such people since the time of their birth and it was clear their anxiety was not related to their physiology but more the implications of their presence.

“Tari, Titi. These are Tiye, Tema and Safiya.” Each of the girls bowed upon their introductions. “They have graciously agreed to aid us. As I have Shanti for my personal needs -” Shanti raised her head proudly, “- I feel it only wise to grant them unto you. Neither of you have personal handmaidens. Is that correct?”

“I – It is, mother,” Nefertari said. “I’ve not before seen the need.”

Nefertiti shook her head wildly, cheeks blossoming with dusky pink.

They had not _before_ seen the need, but after experiencing what they had the night before, a flame had been lit within them. The flame of adulthood, of desire and of burning passion that would not go away. It was one Cleopatra knew well and she could see it even in her youngest’s eyes, particularly as they roved and roamed over Safiya’s buxom figure.

It appeared her daughters would not be nearly as reluctant as she first imagined.

“Perfect. In that case you should feel pleased to have their service. Tiye and Tema, I would grant you to my eldest, Nefertari. Serve her well.”

The sheep twins bowed and darted toward Nefertari, who almost stumbled back under their onslaught. They were short and reached only up to her breasts, Tari towering above them. That did not make her appear any more in control of them, however. Her hands knew not where to touch, and her eyes found nowhere safe to rest.

“Safiya.” Cleopatra smiled toward the girl who, if not by age then by nature, seemed far older. “I would ask you to look after and guide my youngest, Nefertiti. She is as of yet inexperienced in matters of the heart. And of the flesh.”

“It would be my honour.” Safiya opened her arms wide.

Nefertiti kicked her toes bashfully against the floor and looked both at Safiya and then Cleopatra.

“Go on,” Cleopatra said, giving her a little push.

Titi made the rest of the journey on her own, stepping into Safiya’s embrace. Her position with her sister was reversed, Titi being much smaller and readily swallowed by the woman’s arms. Her face disappeared into Safiya’s cleavage; a fate Cleopatra imagined did not dismay her daughter much. She had chosen their partners well, for the bashful twins would have been useless with an equally shy Nefertiti, whereas Nefertari might chafe under the prospect of a mothering lover.

“And with this, it’s time my daughters learned the Ritual of Dedication.”

Safiya, Tiye and Tema knew it well. That much was obvious by how they moved quickly to the beds Shanti had set up within the chamber. Tari and Titi, on the other hand, knew it on the receiving end but had not yet experienced it as the giver. They waited nearby, unsure and uncertain. Their eyes remained locked on their partners however, especially when Safiya parted her white and gold-trimmed robes, showing her large breasts. A tiny amount of milk leaked from one teat and ran down her smooth stomach.

Nefertiti licked her lips.

Cleopatra purred, pushing her youngest forward. Shanti did the same with Nefertari, positioning each of them before one of the beds. On Tari’s, the twins readied themselves, running their hands over the body of the other in a display both familial and erotic. On Titi’s bed, Safiya spread her legs on either side of Nefertiti’s, sitting on the edge of the bed with a welcoming smile, one that invited Nefertiti both into her bed, and into Safiya.

“The dedication is a decidedly simple affair,” Cleopatra said. “You reach out and beseech a Goddess for her power, swearing the tantric energy from your coupling to said Goddess. It is much easier than what I had to do to gain my own.”

Such had required rituals and preparation, fortitude and the right time of the month, the year and even the day. Everything had been meticulous and planned. That had been the exception to the rule.

“In this case, you call out to me. Place your hands as such.” Cleopatra laid her own hands flat on either side of her shaven mound, thumbs and fingers forming a kite-shape, with her fingers pointed down toward her slit. Between, one might imagine where the base of a cock would be. “Take a deep breath and clear your mind of all thoughts. Lust is fine, lust is encouraged, but fear, doubt and avarice must have no place. Speak out loud and dedicate your coupling to the Goddess. Beseech her for the tool with which to grant it.” She laughed softly. “And fear not, I will hardly refuse you. Or be offended should you get it wrong.”

Her daughters giggled. The jest appeared to have calmed them somewhat.

Nefertari was the more confident, and the first to begin. “I beseech you, Cleopatra, Goddess and mother, grant me your blessing so that I might couple with the girls who lay before me. In return, I would grant you the dedication of our union, and all the fruits that might come of it.”

Well spoken. Confident. Cleopatra felt such a rush of pride for her eldest that she nearly did not feel the _tug_ that came after. The small and subtle drain on her power that grew ever stronger. Cleopatra gasped and Shanti had to support her.

“It is fine,” she whispered. “The drain… It must be that I am yet new to this. It is more than I expected. And look, my daughter. Ah. She is so beautiful.”

Her daughter, Nefertari, looked down at the goddess-granted cock that sprouted from her nether region with awe and pride. Eight inches, straight and unbelievably smooth, it glistened in the warm light of the nearby torches. The twins, Tiye and Tema, seemed impressed by it, even curious in Tiye’s case. She crawled forward, closing her eyes and sniffing faintly at it. Nefertari trembled, biting her lower lip as the two small girls huddled before her and rubbed their cheeks against it.

So adorable.

“Are you well?” Shanti asked.

“I am better now.” It was no word of lie and she stood tall. “The forming was more taxing than the upkeep. I believe it more surprise that weakened me. I did not expect it to be so personal a feeling. To have my own essence drawn from me like that. Titi, it is your turn. Make your mother proud.”

Nefertiti, having watched her sister, nodded her head quickly and looked back to Safiya. The large woman reached forward and laid a hand on Nefertiti’s stomach, whispering some quiet words. They must have reached her daughter for she nodded and stood a little taller.

“I, Nefertiti, daughter of Cleopatra, do beseech her for aid. G – Grant me a cock with which to m – make love to Safiya and… and everything that comes of it will be yours.” Titi’s cheeks burned with colour. “P – Please. I – I want it…”

Cleopatra hid her laughter. It wouldn’t have served her daughter well to hear it, as nervous as she was. She needn’t have been. Her intent was more important than her words, her sincerity more important than even that. Cleopatra felt the draw nonetheless and Titi’s body glowed with golden light.

It was fitting that Nefertiti not be as well-endowed as her sister. Still, a good six inches and thicker than average. Titi seemed amazed by it, and then all but paralysed as Safiya reached out and took it gently in hand.

“Ah~” Titi moaned, her legs trembling as Safiya gently stroked her length. “Ahh! Ahhh!”

“Wait not on my invitation,” Cleopatra said, returning to her throne and sitting upon it. “You have my gift and have dedicated yourselves to me. Now, it’s time you learn what that is to mean.”

The girls were nervous but Safiya proved a boon to Nefertiti, drawing the younger girl in with kind words and a loving smile. Seeing that she was too shy to move on her own, she drew Titi forward by her new phallus and pushed her down onto the bed. Kneeling beside her, Safiya leaned down to capture her lips and massage her tongue against Titi’s, all the while her hand continued to gently stroke and work the length of her shaft.

Titi’s desperate mewls and cries were silenced for a while, replaced with the wet sounds of tongue, mouth and mumbling. Safiya used her other hand to peel her daughter’s robes away, casting them aside until they both lay naked upon the bed, Safiya’s dark spots stark against her milky skin. The bovine girl’s sex was slick and wet with lust. Her body, born of Hathor’s blood, quite literally dripped with arousal, and it was said the juices of such a person could form a potent aphrodisiac. Poor Titi had no idea what she was getting into, though Cleopatra believed her daughter would not shy away from it either.

On the other bed, Nefertari had found her way onto her knees upon the quilts. Tema was with her, kneeling up and holding onto her, black wool pressed against Tari’s body as their tongues danced together. Laid down at her side, Tiye’s head bobbed up and down, suckling and pleasuring the beautiful shaft before her, sweeping her lips up and down and occasionally taking it from her mouth entirely to lay kisses down its full length.

One of Tari’s hands came down to clutch at Tiye’s white hair, holding on and urging the sheep girl back onto her penis. Tiye obliged, opening her small mouth and swallowing Tari whole. The force of it knocked Tari back, and Tema carried her down, locking her lips the whole time until Nefertari lay flat on her back, assailed from both below and above as the two sheep girls went to work on her, lips on her most sensitive parts and hands roaming over her body.

Inevitably, they found her modest breasts, squeezing and playing with her dusky nipples as their wool-clad bodies rubbed against her legs and shoulders. Not even Nefertari’s hands were safe. One was drawn down to rub against Tiye’s face, while Tema locked an arm between her legs and rubbed up against it, brushing her wet slit up and down Nefertari’s forearm, leaving thin trails of arousal behind.

The coupling was beautiful, and in some strange way she could feel it. Cleopatra’s breathing quickened and she swallowed loudly. Without meaning to, her legs parted and a hand dove down between to peel her wet robes aside.

“Allow me,” Shanti said, appearing on her knees almost immediately. Her eyes were focused on Cleopatra’s wet and pink sex. “This is my responsibility,” she said hungrily. “My duty. It is one I do eagerly.”

Cleopatra’s protests cut off in a hiss as Shanti’s tongue invaded her. A hand clamped down on the girl’s head, preventing her escape. Shanti made no attempt to and instead dug deeper, probing her body and searching for every pearl and hidden secret.

“Ahh~” Cleopatra moaned, head falling back.

Nefertiti had found her strength in the meanwhile. Pushing back against Safiya, she reversed their positions so that it was she on top. The cowgirl spread her arms and legs invitingly and Titi sank down into her, shivering and gasping for breath as her length disappeared fully into a wet and warm paradise.

Safiya’s legs wrapped about Titi’s smaller hips, holding her in place. Her hands and fingers brushed through her hair, more akin to a mother than a lover. Such was the nature of Hathor’s ilk, to blur the line between the two. Adding to that, Safiya drew Nefertiti’s mouth toward one of her large and squishy breasts. Already having discovered a fondness of them from Cleopatra, Nefertiti wasted no time opening her mouth and sealing her lips over the large nub.

Her eyes widened a moment later, then closed in luxurious bliss. Her cheeks sucked in and bulged out, body going limp as she clung to Safiya and drank of her milk. Safiya cooed her name and rocked them onto her side, gently pulling Titi’s hips into her, stimulating her cock, even as she breastfed the teenage girl, stroking her hair the whole time.

Nefertari had found her own sway as well, pinning Tema to the bed and burying her shaft within her, parting both her wool and her lips between her legs. The black sheep’s legs came up over Tari’s shoulder, held there by her hands. Tiye, meanwhile, sat upon her sister’s face, being licked by her twin as she kissed Nefertari, the two locked in a battle of wills and tongue above Tema’s shaking and bouncing body.

Tema stiffened suddenly and Cleopatra gasped, feeling such a rush of energy into her that she knew the sheep girl had climaxed.

A second rush came after as Nefertari groaned and leaned forward, slamming her hips forth and burying her full length in Tema. Her fingers dug into the girl’s waist and held on for dear life. Her eyes rolled back.

Cleopatra moaned with her eldest daughter, head rolling back as she climaxed onto Shanti’s face and into her mouth. The suddenness of it neither shocked nor dissuaded Shanti. The girl happily lapped up the remnants of her orgasm and then went back to work, humming contentedly as Cleopatra hooked a leg over and around her shoulder, locking her in place.

Through one eye she saw golden sand wrap briefly around the interlocked lovers on the bed. She was not certain they saw it or not, for if they did then their passions prevented them from reacting. The golden sand wafted through the air and spiralled toward her, flowing into Cleopatra’s body and setting every nerve in her body alight. The tingling raced through her, and the power – oh, the power. Never had she experienced such a moment of _strength_. Not all at one time. It was all she could do to clench her teeth together and not scream.

Nefertari drew out of Tema, and though her black wool clung to her shaft, there was no missing how wet and glistening it was. Tiye dove down immediately, slithering forward on all fours like a snake, prowling over her own sister’s exhausted body to lick and suck on Nefertari’s cock, cleaning it with her wet tongue.

Tema’s face was revealed, flushed, damp from sweat and open-mouthed. Her blue eyes stared dazedly up at the ceiling, past even her white twin’s delectable rump.

Such did not last. Nefertari had tasted joy now and made no secret of wanting more. Pushing Tiye off her cock, she forced the girl down upon her sister’s body, commanding Tema to hold on. Dazed as she was, Tema obliged, hooking her hands under Tiye’s arms and locking them open, then doing the same with her feet under Tiye’s knees, parting those as well.

Tiye lay defenceless before Tari, legs spread and crotch hovering but a few inches above Tema’s much wetter and looser one. The shy sheep girl blushed prettily and tried to look away – not an easy task with Tema holding her body in place.

Nefertari leaned in and peeled Tiye’s soft woollen shield away. Her slit could be seen beyond, so delicate and small and pink, but also wet beyond belief. Tari leaned down to kiss and lick at it, making the bashful girl mewl and cry out in want. Her pleas went answered as Nefertari sat back up again, taking the cock granted by her mother’s blessing and pushing it into Tiye’s wool, up against her aching slit.

The two shuddered as one as she pushed inside. Tiye tried to thrash and hold onto Tari but was helpless to do so, held down by her sister.

Tari pushed her full length inside and held it there, looking up toward the ceiling and struggling to breathe. Only once she was fully prepared did she begin to move, sweeping in and out of the girl with long and steady thrusts. Her control was incredible, her discipline impressive.

 _That is my daughter,_ Cleopatra thought, watching with pride. _Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, taking not one but two and making them hers._

It was beautiful to watch.

Her youngest was less sure of herself and yet that brought its own charm. Forgivable, for she still had a year or more to grow into Tari’s confidence, she let Safiya lead her and was still suckling and drinking of her milk, even though rivers of white had begun to leak from her mouth and dribble over the cowgirl’s round body.

Safiya was moaning and gasping herself now, urging Nefertiti to drink harder, to focus not on one breast but both and also to keep pushing into her. Her hands had roamed from Titi’s hair down to her pert buttocks and were holding on tight, pushing Titi’s hips back and forth to aid with her feverish and wild thrusting.

Not for Nefertiti the calm and steady grace of her sister. She _slammed_ back and forth with dire need, like an animal rutting another in a field. The bed creaked under the force of it and the contrast between Nefertiti’s small body and Safiya’s large and round one only accentuated the display. Nefertiti was all but engulfed in Safiya’s breasts and between her thighs, yet she was the one in control, however sorely she showed it.

Safiya brought one hand up to her mouth and bit down on it, screaming into her skin and arching her back. Such was her strength that Titi was drawn up with her, off her feet, and yet even then her little hips continued to move, thrusting her cock in and out of Safiya with wet and sloppy sounds, holding onto the larger woman’s body with a hand wrapped under Safiya’s back and her mouth sealed on one of her milky breasts.

Her other hand gripped and squeezed the other, and with a sudden spurt Safiya came, milk squirting up from her nipple even as she collapsed back onto the bed, legs convulsing and twitching around Nefertiti’s.

At the same time, her youngest daughter sped up, hammering into Safiya with such need that their bodies became a blur. And then she stopped, as sudden as could be, twitching once and with her buttocks clenching and tensing.

Cleopatra came again, kneading her feet on Shanti’s back as she _felt_ her daughter ejaculating into Safiya. Felt it as though it was her own cock being milked into the larger cowgirl. And it was in a sense, for she had granted both Nefertiti and Nefertari her own divine flesh.

_I never realised I would feel it as they do. Ah. My heart bursts…_

Another part of her burst as well, arousal and orgasm running like the Nile against Shanti’s tongue. Her handmaiden’s fingers dug into her thighs as she fought it, pushing against the tide to do her given duty, pushing Cleopatra headfirst into yet more pleasure.

Even if Titi and Safiya had come to a stop, Nefertiti drawing her soft cock out and laying it on Safiya’s stomach, the pleasure continued. Safiya rolled them onto their side again, drawing Titi’s tired body into her embrace. Desperately, she pushed her teats toward Nefertiti’s face, and longingly she sighed as the younger girl began to drink again.

 _The sand again,_ Cleopatra thought blearily, watching it coil toward her. _The manifestation of tantric energy given divine form. Is it because I am close to them? I cannot imagine this could happen all across Egypt and go unnoticed._

Such thoughts – all thoughts, really – were robbed from her as the sand infused her. Her head fell back, and she choked on air, collapsing bodily onto an eagerly waiting Shanti’s face and tongue. Her legs spasmed and kneaded into the girl’s back as she came.

On the other bed, Nefertari was bringing Tiye to her own end. Now having rolled her over, Tiye and Tema were face to face, breast to breast, kissing and moaning loudly as Nefertari alternated between their bodies, taking Tiye for several seconds and then drawing out, pushing lower and into Tema, ploughing her body until she could take no more, then switching back. White and black wool mixed, slick with juices, between their legs. Again, Nefertari drew out, her shaft twitching and shaking, on the verge of erupting.

She pushed it into Tiye and suddenly held still, body shaking.

“It comes, Tema!” Tiye cried. “I feel it coming!”

“In my sister,” Tema begged, reaching up to grip Tiye’s buttocks and spread them wide, showing Nefertari and everyone else Tiye’s stretched and dripping sex, engulfing Tari’s thick cock. “Please, bless my sister – in the name of Cleopatra. Accept our devotion!”

“For Cleopatra!” Nefertari grunted, bending double over the two sheep girls and pushing herself deep inside Tiye. “This climax I dedicate to Cleopatra, Goddess of Egypt and ruler of Alexandria!”

The orgasm came in a rush. Both hers and Nefertari’s and even Tiye’s. The three came as one, simultaneous, and, from Cleopatra’s point of view, all happening in her body at once. She sensed their climax as powerfully as she felt her own, along with the warm seed both flowing out of her cock _and_ into her at the same time. Experienced from both sides, her mind was filled with white while her body convulsed, shaking on the throne and pushing down onto Shanti’s waiting mouth.

Her cries mixed with those of Nefertari and Tiye, filling the room as every last breath of air was torn from her lips in one long and desperate sound.

And just like that, it ended. As swiftly as it had come. Cleopatra crashed down and would have slid off her throne but for Shanti’s support. Instead, she slid down against the girl’s face, pushing her tongue further inside and whimpering at how that felt. At the same time, Nefertari collapsed atop Tiye and Tema, slipping out of the former’s slit and spilling semen onto the sheets.

The three of them lay there panting for breath, even as Nefertiti lay in Safiya’s arms, greedily suckling on her breasts, while Shanti provided much the same motion and action but on Cleopatra’s clit. Weakly, she forced a hand down and pushed Shanti away.

“No more,” she whispered. “Or you will be the end of me.”

Shanti looked up, pearls of arousal around her lips and eyes shining. Slowly, she licked her tongue over her lips, collecting each and swallowing them. Cleopatra swallowed, breaking eye contact before she could be tempted to push Shanti down onto the throne and take her then and there.

She wasn’t sure her legs would allow it. Her body felt as weak as a new-born lamb’s.

“Help me to my bed,” she said, knowing Nefertari and Nefertiti would be too exhausted to do such. “I am exhausted, Shanti, and need your support.”

“My Goddess ever has it.” Shanti helped her to her feet and supported her. Another ruler might have balked at the idea of a servant seeing them in so vulnerable a state, but she allowed her faithful to help her. “Did the ritual work? Do you feel stronger?”

“I have more power, yes, but the rush – ah, it caught me by surprise again.” In time, she felt she could get used to it, even ignore it, but for now it was like a virgin’s first time. So raw, so powerful. She had no defence against it. “With my daughters engaging with their servants I shall gain more overtime. Look for others as well, Shanti. They need not be with us but even if they dalliance among themselves, if they would dedicate to my name, I would grow powerful.”

Shanti nodded and laid her down on her own bed, aside from those of her daughters. There would be no moving them tonight and Cleopatra had not the energy for it regardless. Sweating and panting for breath that would not come, she could only whisper a quiet note of thanks as Shanti drew the silken sheets up over her sticky body.

Her eyes closed and sleep claimed her swiftly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Her daughters were enjoying themselves again. Even as she bathed in her room alone, she could feel it, both the draw on her power as they pleaded her blessing and also the flow of tantric energy when they reached their climax. It no longer flew into her as sand. That must have been due to her proximity. Even so, she felt it and felt herself grow just that little stronger.

Not strong enough, not for her goals, but it was a step in the right direction.

All she needed was more time.

“My Queen!” Shanti cried, dashing down the hallway outside her door. “Queen Cleopatra!” The sound of muttered curses came from outside her door, followed by raised voices. Cleopatra stood from her much smaller copper bath and stepped out, allowing a servant to wrap a robe about her body. Rather than secure it, she let it drape over her shoulder, leaving her glistening body naked. “I must speak with her! You must let me through!”

“Queen Cleopatra is bathing.”

“It is well,” she called through the door. “Though your loyalty does you credit, know that Shanti is allowed into my chambers whenever she might wish it.”

Outside, her guards bowed their heads and stepped aside. Shanti pushed through, face red and eyes wild. Fear rolled off her in waves and Cleopatra beckoned the servant who had attended her bath away. The young girl bowed and fled, knowing she was not to hear what would be said.

“Cleopatra!” Shanti crashed into her. “I – I bring news!”

It must have been troubling news for Shanti to have called her by name. She laid her hands upon the girl’s shoulders. “What is it? Calm yourself, Shanti. Whatever it is, I shall deal with it as I must.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Has a Goddess come to Alexandria?”

Had they been discovered?

“N – No, my Queen. No Goddess. Worse.”

Worse? Unless she spoke of the end of times or her sister risen from the grave, Cleopatra knew not what could be worse at this moment. She dared not doubt Shanti’s panic, however. Her handmaiden knew her well.

“Who?”

“It… It is Caesar!”

Cleopatra’s very blood ran cold.

“C – Caesar, my Queen. She comes at the head of a legion. A rider was sent ahead. She requests your presence. R – Requests you ready yourself for her. I asked the rider, my Queen, she will be here soon. All too soon.”

Shaking, Cleopatra made her way out the open door and onto her balcony, looking out over the horizon. No legion could be seen from where she stood, yet she knew it would cross the horizon soon enough. Caesar, a necessary evil, one she had brought upon the land herself. Her responsibility, both to placate and to deal with.

A Goddess she had been prepared for. The Emperor, she was not.

_But I must be, if I am to keep our people safe._

“Travel to the kitchens, Shanti. Have our cooks prepare a banquet. And a dining hall is to be prepared. Then, I want you to find Nefertari and Nefertiti and take them from the palace. Go shopping, visit the temples or speak with the traders. Anything so long as they are out of the palace and away from _her_.”

“Y – Yes, my Queen.” Shanti made to leave, eyes to the floor, but paused before she could. Hesitantly, she looked back. “Will you be alright, my Queen? I know it is not my place to ask but -”

“Fear no reprisal for your concern, my dear. And fear not for me.” Cleopatra’s fingers tightened around the balustrade. In the distance, she thought she might have caught the first glimpse of sand rising, as though kicked up by the tread of a thousand people. “I am the Queen of Alexandria. I am the Queen of Egypt.” Her voice lowered. “I am a Goddess.”

Though weak, so weak.

“I will do what I must for Egypt.”


	3. Veni, Vidi, Vici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the arrival of the Greco-Romanian legion, Cleopatra must prepare to welcome her patron, the most dangerous woman in all of Greco-Romania. The Imperator herself, Julia Caesar.

* * *

 

 

Gaia Julia Caesar.

Even the name sent chills through Cleopatra’s body, as it did from those who called themselves Caesar’s enemy, or would have if they hadn’t all been ground into dust. The superior of the Greco-Romanian Empire, the subjugator of the Gauls, the Carthaginians and more. Egypt was but the last on Caesar’s long list of triumphs, and as her legion marched through the streets of Alexandria, Cleopatra watched from the palace entrance, stood in a magnificent but revealing robe of white edged with gold, pinned in the Roman style despite how much that bothered her.

Kohl lined her eyes to make them appear dark and smoky, and she wore sandals that reached up and around her ankles tightly. A golden necklace hung around her neck, dangling down between her cleavage. On it, the stamp of Rome, the eagle, was emblazoned. Caesar had called it a gift, but it was nothing more than a collar. Proof of her ownership. It spent its days locked away where she would never have to gaze upon it, but with Caesar here in the city, she dared not neglect to wear it.

“Are the cooks ready?” she whispered to an elderly advisor. “Be sure they know to serve our finest – and the meals must be Greco-Romanian. The maids are to be on their best behaviour no matter what happens.”

“They have been made aware, my Queen.”

“The statues?”

The older woman adopted a pinched expression. “We brought the statues of Jupiter and Mercury to the feasting hall. They stand alongside Ra.”

Sacrilege. The woman didn’t say it, but Cleopatra heard it all the same. Such necessity pained her also, but it _was_ necessary. Caesar’s legion approached, boots stamping down in perfect unison, a drumbeat rising up that matched it. Their armour was dusty from the long march, but the women who wore it were firm. Their square jaws and hard eyes stared doggedly ahead, showing little fear and less concern for being within a foreign city. They were used to it. They were used to dealing with the so-called `less civilised` cultures such as their own.

 _I had no choice and I have none now._ Cleopatra stood tall, raising her head as Caesar herself became visible, riding atop her horse with her ceremonial armour. _The armies of Egypt could never have stood up to them._

Julia Caesar raised her hand. No words were spoken, but the drums stopped and the legions came to an immediate halt on the next step, one final stamp of their feet echoing as they came to rest. Smiling, Caesar swung one long leg over the flank of her horse and descended, stepping down onto the cupper hand of Marca Aurelia, who had immediately dismounted to aid her liege.

Caesar placed one hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder and alighted on the ground. Her silver pauldrons reflected the midday sun and shone, shining bright light over an angular and smooth face chiselled from marble. A strong nose – a Roman nose – cut her face in two, reaching down to wide lips curled up in a satisfied and arrogant smile. Her banded armour was a mixture of silver plate and red cloth, tooled with gold and featuring the imperial eagle. She had a gladius sheathed on her left hip, along with a smaller dagger and a scroll case.

Her pleated tunic swayed like a skirt as she walked forward, leaving the legion behind and approaching the palace. Her intelligent blue eyes peered up and met Cleopatra’s own from behind a wave of hair so bright yellow it might have been spun from gold itself. Beautiful. Cunning. Deadly. Julia Caesar approached the palace alone.

How satisfying it would have been to remain ten steps up and force Caesar to look up to address her. To make it look as though she held the power. Cleopatra considered that fantasy for the barest moment before she hurried down the marble steps. To reach the ground late would be to invite wrath, but even on the same level, she would not kneel. Would not prostrate herself.

“My lord Caesar,” Cleopatra said. “Welcome to Alexandria once more. You and your legion are forever welcome within our walls.”

“Cleopatra.” Not Queen. Not Lady. No title. Whispers broke out and though she tried not to bristle, her irritation must have been clear for Caesar’s lips curled further. “You are as beautiful as I remember. Long nights on the march with naught but Marca to keep me company have been awfully trying.”

Her voice was strong and carried, a voice used to command armies. To shouting over a battlefield or a horde of rowdy politicians. It was feminine but powerful, perfectly honed like a weapon of its own. Caesar’s hand reached out and took hold of her chin, tilting her face to the left and right like a buyer inspecting a horse. Palace aides gasped at such blatant disrespect.

“A sight for tired eyes,” she said. “And you’re wearing my gift.” Her fingers dipped lower, breathing over Cleopatra’s throat and then her breasts, as good as groping her before her men as she lifted the necklace and let all see the seal of Rome - Caesar’s seal – marking her _property._ “This looks good on you, Cleopatra. I almost want to take you back to Rome and show you off to the Senate.”

“I have a responsibility here, my lord.”

“You do. And that is why I have not.” Caesar stepped back and raised her voice. “Tenth Legion!”

Feet stamped down.

“Retire to the barracks that have surely been provided. See the _equites_ to the stables. Legionary command to me. Marca, see the troops houses and then return. You will have pride of place at my table tonight.”

“Imperator!” Marca shouted, slamming her own dainty fist against her breastplate. Rounding on the legion, she began to bark out orders.

“Good allies are so hard to find that you tend to keep hold of those who serve well,” Caesar said, taking Cleopatra by the hand and turning her away. That hand wrapped around her waist possessively, locking Cleopatra to her side. “I trust there _is_ a feast to welcome our arrival. It would be awfully rude otherwise.”

“Of course there is a feast, Lord Caesar. When have I disappointed you?”

“When indeed? You are a good servant yourself.”

It was difficult not to stiffen. She was a Queen, no servant, and this woman was little more than a barbaric conqueror, for all that she claimed to be the conqueror _of_ barbarians. As the hand dipped lower, squeezing her rear through her silken gown, Cleopatra looked up toward the heavens for help and led the monster through the halls of her palace. This would not last, she told herself. If all went well, Egypt would be free once more.

But for now, Egypt, and her, had to bend the knee.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Greco-Romanians ate like pigs.

It was their culture, she knew, but to lay on their sides as servants were expected to fondle food into their mouths was a disgrace. To not even sit at the tables and look at the food so lovingly provided. Instead, Cleopatra knelt with Caesar’s head in her lap, trying to smile as a hand played under her dress and against her legs, her own hands holding both a frond of grapes and a glass of finest wine, neither of which were poisoned but both of which she wished could be.

Julia was no amateur to such games. Before deigning to eat anything, she invited their hosts to eat first – as gratitude for their hospitality, she framed it, but they both knew better. Fortunately, no one had died and the feast had not been ruined.

“I see you’ve brought Jupiter and Mercury to witness our moment,” Caesar said, gesturing to the statues. “I do not recognise the other. One of your own?”

“Ra. Goddess of the sun and the giver of life. Each day, Ra descends into the underworld and must travel through it before she is born anew as the sun.”

“A Goddess who dies every day?” Julia snorted and tossed her golden hair. “That seems fragile to me. Why not simply conquer the underworld as our own have? Such a weak Goddess. Fitting of your culture.”

The comparison might have stung had she let it. It was hardly the first if the evening. From the halls to the art, the statues to the maids, the food and the entertainment. Even the dancers who languidly removed cloth from their nubile forms. All were compared to what it was like in Rome, and always negatively.

The music in Rome was livelier. The dancers were prettier. The food was fresher. The wine was richer. The weather cooler. The people smarter. The city prettier. The list went on, one complaint after another, but always delivered with that faux apology of `but we know you’re trying your best so we’ll forgive you. You’re uncivilised after all`.

“Are the tithes prepared for me, Cleopatra? I didn’t think to ask.”

The subtle threat hung in the air.

“They are ready for you to take whenever you wish, Caesar. Six chests of gold, three of spice and two wagons of supplies as requested.”

“Good. Good.” Caesar reached up to stroke her cheek. “You’re always so good at these things, but I have to ask. I hope you’re not upset.”

Such false niceties were expected, even if both knew it was such. Her position demanded she lean into Caesar’s hand lovingly, nuzzling it and allowing the brute to caress her chin and neck. Her skin was soft and fragrant, the handmaidens having prepared her lavishly for this moment, bathing her in milk and rose petals and oils until she sparkled like a jewel.

One that Caesar could look at, admire and touch as she wished. She had many, she imagined. Conquered and subservient women who vied to play the part of bedwarmer for but the briefest scraps of gain. It disgusted her that she now counted among such. It was even more depressing that everyone knew. Their act fooled few.

“That reminds me,” Caesar said suddenly. “Are your daughters not in attendance today? I don’t see them. Nefertati and Nefertini, correct?”

“Nefertari and Nefertiti,” she corrected nervously. They were not present and with good reason. She had strict orders that they were to stay hidden, Tari looking after Titi and distracting her so she wouldn’t wander and catch some Roman eye. “And they are in studies. It is important they learn the ins and outs of running a-”

“Nonsense.” Julia sat up fully. “A celebration such as this is no time to spend away with scrolls. Have them summoned. They are your daughters; I would see them dine with us. Anything less would be an insult.”

Nefertari and Nefertiti were called for. What else could she do but instruct a maid to collect them? They came quickly, garbed in partially see-through white silks but thankfully with strips of cloth to protect their modesty. Their dark stomachs were bare and flat, smooth to the touch and glistening from oil. Nefertiti stood beside and a little behind Tari, shy in the face of strange and forward interlopers.

Shame flushed through Cleopatra as they looked upon her and saw not their mother, not their Queen and the powerful woman she was, but the subservient woman who would let a foreign dictator rest upon her. She could not meet her daughters’ eyes.

_Do not look upon me. Not as I am now._

“Come forth,” Caesar boomed. “Let me get a proper look at you.” The girls did so, their bare feet padding softly on the tiled floor. The legionaries in attendance of the feast looked them up and down hungrily, making no sign to hide their desire. All bar Marca Aurelia, who also looked but without the same hunger.

Nefertari stood firm and proud as Caesar’s eyes roamed over her, and then her hand, splaying out over her stomach and dipping down toward her waist. The fingers stroked in a slow circle, centring around her womb.

“I can see Marca in you both. Such pretty little things. This is your heir, yes?” she asked her. “Or do you do things differently here in that it’s not the eldest who would inherit?”

“It would be Nefertari, yes.”

Caesar’s eyes slid to Titi. “Then this is the spare.”

“Lord Caesar!” she protested as Nefertiti quailed. “No daughter of mine is a _spare_.”

“No harm was intended.” Julia’s eyes were on her youngest child instead of her. “It’s but the term used. We hardly throw away second and third born. Come closer, child. I’d like a proper look at you. Come.”

Nefertiti didn’t want to, that much was clear, but under the eyes of her mother and the subtle nod she gave, stepped forth so that Caesar could lay her eyes, and her hands, upon her. Her pretty green eyes closed as Caesar drew her close, sliding a hand behind her back and pulling until she had her chin in the girl’s hair.

“A beauty like your mother,” she said. Her free hand brushed over Titi’s smaller bosom, not quite groping but still no accident and enough to make Nefertiti jump. “I’m sure you’ll grow just as well in time. I’ve made mention of taking your mother to see Rome time upon time, but her responsibilities here keep her busy. Not so you.” Caesar’s eyes burned with want. “What say you to seeing the jewel of the world?”

“I… I don’t know, my lord,” Nefertiti stammered.

“I could show you the gladiatorial arena. The amphitheatre. The temple of Artemis. Such sighs you would see.” Caesar’s hands dipped lower, running between Nefertiti’s legs. “Why, you might even come back a changed woman.”

Nefertiti whimpered.

Cleopatra wrapped her arms around Caesar’s neck. The legionaries tensed, Marca reaching for her dagger but relenting when she draped herself over the woman, nestling her face into the crook of Julia’s neck. Her hands joined over her heart. “My lord,” she mewled, breathing hot air into Julia’s ear. “Isn’t it a cruel that you ignore me so quickly after so long apart? To tease me so is unfair.”

The legionaries laughed and banged their hands on the tables. Julia appeared surprised, but recovered quickly and leaned back, reaching over one shoulder to cup her cheek. Nefertari took that chance to draw her younger sister away, disappearing amongst the servants as Cleopatra sacrificed herself, placing a grape between her lips and leaning down to deliver it unto Caesar personally.

A hand gripped behind her head to prevent her escape. The grape was taken and swallowed, then a tongue fresh with the taste of it pushed into her mouth and against her own. Another hand slid lower, into her dress and parting the folds, drawing out a soft breast to play with in front of all her commanders. Cleopatra burned with humiliation, but that could easily be mistaken for more pleasant feeling. She was sure to encourage that with the sounds she made.

“It’s good to see my absence was noted,” Caesar said when she drew away. “You’re normally so reserved. Has something changed?”

Cleopatra doubted Julia knew or suspected of what might have; the question was more to call out that she’d seen through the ruse and knew it was just that to buy her daughters a chance to escape. But now, with her having committed to it, she could not draw such sentiment back. Unless Cleopatra was prepared to out herself a liar and unfaithful, she would have to play the part.

“It’s said the heart grows fonder in absence, does it not? I believe it one of your poets who said that.”

“Reading up on our works? We’ll make a Greco-Romanian out of you yet. In truth, I’ve missed you too.” Cleopatra doubted that. Or rather, she doubted any emotional attachment to the words. Julia saw it. “You doubt me?”

“Of course not.”

“You do.” Caesar laughed. “I cannot blame you. After all, with so many long weeks alone with Marca and my servants, is it not reasonable for a lonely lover like yourself to wonder? Worry not, though many shared my bed, few shared my heart as you have. Here. Allow me to prove it.”

With that scant warning, Caesar reached for her belt buckle and clicked it loose. Her pleated leather tunic bottoms fell, revealing her thick thighs and smooth legs much paler in colour than Cleopatra’s own. Along with that, her thick _cock_ stood tall and at attention. The feasting hall to fell to silence, numerous honoured guests of Egypt watching in shock.

Cleopatra closed her eyes, but too late to not see it.

“See?” Caesar leaned back, sounding as smug as she no doubt was. Her coterie laughed, more than amused by the raucous humour. “After seeing you again for but an hour, I’m already like this. If that’s not proof of my devotion, I don’t know what is.”

“That – That is nice of you to say…” It wasn’t. “Should not we focus on the feast…?”

“Should we? You’ve just finished telling me how long you’ve yearned for me, how unfair it was I shower your daughters with attention and not you. This is all for you, Cleopatra. Why don’t you show me just how much you’ve missed me?”

Here and now? In the midst of a feast with so many watching and all the most important people of both Greco-Romania and Alexandria in attendance? The way she sat with legs spread made it clear where she expected her to kneel. On the floor, like a commoner. Like a common whore. It was too much. Far too much.

“My Lord…” she pleaded. “Can we not retire somewhere more private?”

“I’ve yet to finish eating. And besides, what is there to be ashamed of where love is involved?” Looking down on her, Caesar said, “You _did_ ask me to pay more attention to you. Don’t tell me such was said with dishonesty…?”

To admit so would be to dishonour herself and her family. To do this…? It was but one more. Cleopatra pushed herself gently off the cushions and stepped before him, her long hair falling down her back and her white robe dancing in the breeze. Caesar looked up at her confidently, sure that Cleopatra would be the first to surrender. The first to crack and bend knee. If she did not, Caesar would be humiliated.

But she would not be humbled. Quite the opposite.

Cleopatra’s knee settled softly on the marble tiles. Egyptian priestesses looked away. Maids and servants stared at the floor, none able to watch as their Queen – the Queen of Egypt – lowered herself down onto both knees in front of the woman who had claimed Egypt as her own. Before them all, and with the Greco-Romanian legionaries nudging one another and making derogatory comments, Cleopatra wrapped her lips around the thick, musky cock.

_For Egypt. For our future._

The wet sounds of fellatio echoed around a dining hall driven to stunned silence.

Egyptians watched with thinly veiled despair – for if their Queen could be made to do this, what hope did they have? Some would silently pray, she imagined, but the Goddesses were as silent as ever, allowing the debasement by omission. The acrid taste of Caesar’s cock filled her mouth, sweaty and musky from long travel and exertion. She didn’t dare react to that and instead chose not to breathe through her nose as she dragged her lips up and down it. All the while Caesar watched smugly.

She could destroy her. Rip Gaia Julia Caesar in two and scatter her body before anyone could react. Since becoming a Goddess, the power was hers. What little tantric energy she’d gleaned from Shanti and her daughters was enough for that. Such violence was tempting. Agonisingly so.

“I love when you look at me so intently,” Caesar said, laying a hand atop her hair as Cleopatra glared up at her. Cleopatra imagined the brief flash of shock and fear in those eyes, how Caesar might gurgle and fall, chest carved open.

How the legionaries would sack Alexandria in vengeance. Burn her palace to the ground, kill her children and reap bloody slaughter through the populace. The Nile would run red with the blood of her people, and those that survived would be taken as slaves for the empire.

Closing her eyes, Cleopatra submitted.

“Hmmm. Such a skilled tongue.” Caesar leaned back and looked to her companions. “Do you intend to watch? Tonight is no march, no war council. Enjoy yourselves. Indulge.”

One of the centurions rose and approached the dancers, who had gone still in shock of seeing their Queen on her knees. One of them, a small and slim girl with ochre skin, flinched as the centurion fixed large and rough hands on her bare stomach, hefting her up off the floor. Her knees bent under her, toes suspended in the air as she looked to her Queen for help.

Cleopatra looked down at Caesar’s balls. _There’s nothing I can do. Forgive me._

The girl was carried back to the table and pushed down onto it, bowls of fruit and fine meats pushed aside, some off the table and onto the floor. The centurion pulled aside her tunic and whispered a quick prayer to one of her heathen Goddesses. A phallus soon formed between her legs and the poor dancer leaned her head back over the table, looking away and whispering her own silent prayers. Prayers that Cleopatra knew would go unanswered.

Her voice reached a high-pitched squeak as the brutish Roman pushed her way inside, taking the poor girl upon the table and in front of her peers. Wide hips pushed up between her legs, spreading them wide apart as the Roman gripped onto her small breasts and hammered away. The girl’s mewling moans and gasps echoed through the hall.

“Ahh. Ahhh. Mmm. Ahhh.”

No Egyptian dared intervene. Not a one.

The remaining Romans took it as the permission it was. Standing, they chased after startled serving girls and whipped them off their feet, laughing and cajoling one another as they carried squirming and kicking girls back to tables and benches, forcing them down into cushions face-first and mounting them, their wide and muscular bodies smothering the lithe, gentle servants.

Soon, the plaintive cries of the taken mingled with the wet slap of sex. Not for the Romans the lovemaking the people were so used to. Only satisfaction of the flesh, as carnal an earthly desire as food or drink. Hungry after such travels and patrols, the legionaries wasted little time availing themselves, rolling their reluctant partners over to better plunder them, fondling their budding breasts and gripping onto hair, horns or whatever other limbs they could.

The remaining dancers were forced to their knees, made to orally service four centurions who surrounded them, both pushing into their mouths and stroking themselves to orgasm upon their nubile bodies.

Cleopatra, meanwhile, could do nothing but bring her head back and forth, taking Caesar’s length and licking her way from the base to the top, closing her eyes and ears against the horror. _I am their Queen. They look to me for guidance. Protection. What good is a Queen who cannot protect her subjects?_

Caesar laughed. Not even watching her, she kept a hand on Cleopatra’s head to prevent escape but otherwise entertained herself by watching her legionaries rip apart the hospitality of their hosts. Food lovingly prepared was dashed onto the floor as Egyptian girls were pushed down side by side and sometimes atop one another, made to kiss and emulate loving embraces while brutish Roman woman thickset and wide grunted like animals.

“Your hospitality is as delightful as ever, Cleopatra. I’m sure you won’t mind if the rest of my legion enjoys itself in a similar manner.” It was not a question. “Alas that we can only stay a little while but worry not. Before the night is over, we’ll have given the gift of Roman seed to Alexandria.” Her hands gripped Cleopatra’s hair. “And you shall have the honour of being the first.”

Panic shot through her and she drew back, planting both hands down on Caesar’s thighs to push away. Hands gripped her hair hard before she could, however, pulling her dark locks into fists as Caesar pushed her own hips forward, forcing Cleopatra back and standing tall, pinning the Queen’s face into her crotch.

“Aghhh!” Caesar roared, jerking her hips forward, pushing her fetid cock all the way to the back of Cleopatra’s throat. It bulged and expanded, filling her mouth or so it seemed, until suddenly Cleopatra’s vision was naught but white, her world filled with hot and foul Roman seed. “Ahhhhhh!” Caesar continued to gasp, pulling Cleopatra’s face tight into her. “Ahhh. That’s it. Swallow it all. Is it not the finest wine? The most succulent of treats? The essence of an Imperator. There’s no finer honour that might be bestowed on your backwards people.”

More of her cum came. So much that it bubbled past her lips and threatened to spill from her nose. She slapped her hands on Caesar’s legs, begging for release, but the Imperator held on firmly, watching her with that smug smile. Waiting. Expecting.

 _I’m going to drown,_ she thought. _Don’t make me._

Caesar did not let her escape, even as her breasts hitched and her cheeks expanded. Face burning red both from humiliation and panic, Cleopatra closed her eyes and surrendered once more. Her throat bulged, sweeping down great globs as she swallowed. One. Two. It took three full swallows to clear her mouth entirely, each causing suction to pull on Caesar’s length, satisfying the Imperator further. Eventually, it was all gone and Caesar pushed her away, leaving Cleopatra to land flat with her hands on the floor, white dribbling from her lips, body flushed red and shoulders shaking.

“As fine a feast as any in Rome,” she laughed, looking out over her centurions as they came inside their own girls, some going so far as to wipe their cocks on the buttocks of crying maids, red finger-marks left in their supple flesh.

For many of them who had been marching for long times, one was not enough. Before their previous partners had even recovered, they stole more, pulling frightened serving girls off their feet, rolling the still recovering onto the floor to make room, or even placing the new girls down on top of the others, forcing and taking them together in one mewling heap. Those Egyptian girls who had been spared dared not intervene. They came and went, refilling wine and bringing dessert while keeping their eyes down, flinching whenever a friend or companion would reach out to them and beg for aid.

This was what Egypt had become. This was what she had to change.

“Come,” Caesar said, stepping past her. “Let us leave my centurions to their entertainment. As one ruler to another, we should talk in private.”

Cleopatra spat one last bit of semen onto the floor. The taste of it was all over her. Someone knelt, a rough hand gently taking her own and helping her up. She whispered her thanks, then looked who it was. Curly brown hair, soft brown eyes and a small face. Marca Aurelia. Hissing, Cleopatra tore her arm away.

“Do not touch me. Never touch me.”

“I apol-”

“Do not _speak_ to me.”

Marca’s small, pink lips sealed shut.

“Marca!” Caesar boomed. “Leave the _Queen_ to handle herself. I have need of you. Come fetch two legionaries from the barracks to act as our guards. I believe I feel rather tired after the long march. Bring them to my – to Cleopatra’s – chambers. We will naturally be spending the night together.”

“As my Imperator wishes,” Marca said, bowing. With one final, lingering look to Cleopatra, the aide departed.

“Curious,” Caesar said. “There are times I think you despise her more than you do me.”

Cleopatra gritted her teeth. “I have no idea what you mean, Lord Caesar.”

“Ha. I’m sure.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cleopatra’s hands trembled furiously as she escorted Caesar to her chamber, flanked by Marca and two legionaries. No other guards were necessary, Julia had said. Or did Queen Cleopatra not trust her safety to the woman she professed such undying devotion for? Now, two legionaries stood outside the door to her chamber, and would do for the duration of Caesar’s visit. Naturally, her chambers would no longer be just her own. Nor would her body or Kingdom.

“You look upset,” Caesar said, sitting on _her_ bed. “Whatever is the matter?”

Alone and with some measure of privacy – Marca, ever Caesar’s shadow, did not count – Cleopatra allowed some small measure of herself to show. Her eyes burned icily, her frame rising tall and rigid as she _glared_ at Caesar. “You humiliated me in front of my subjects.”

“No.” Julia Caesar was on her feet immediately, in her face and with her hand gripping Cleopatra’s cheek between finger and thumb. “I did not humiliate you,” she said. “You humiliated yourself. Don’t think to question me again or it shall be worse.” Caesar shook her face. “Am I understood?”

Cleopatra’s lips drew a thin line.

The fingers dug in. “I said, am I understood?”

“Yes…”

“Good.” Releasing her, Caesar turned, beckoning. “Marca. Assist me.”

Marca was there immediately, the smaller girl reaching up to unbuckle the straps holding Caesar’s armour in place, while the Imperator herself stood still, arms outstretched and to the side. Slowly, her armour was removed, and then her red robe. Long, firm and muscular limbs were revealed. Not hideous in their strength, but lean and coiled like hard bands of steel. Firm breasts smaller than Cleopatra’s own stood out proudly, the nipples hard and erect. A bush of gold clung between her legs, which, for now, did not sport Jupiter’s Goddess-given phallus.

It was said Caesar was the chosen of Jupiter. Seeing how she could summon such endowment in public without preparation, prayer or intonement, Cleopatra believed it. Even her own – which belonged to her and her alone – took some small concentration to bring forth.

“You would do well to remember that you are only Queen Cleopatra because I aided you in becoming such,” Caesar said, standing naked and accepting a goblet of wine from Marca Aurelia. The curly haired brunette was not questioned nor forced to test taste it, not that anyone dared think she would betray Caesar. “I am not an unfair patron, but I do expect debts to be repaid. I have given you a Kingdom. You will give me that which I desire.”

“I’ve given you myself and my people,” Cleopatra declared. “You take tithe, freedom and culture, not to mention fifty virgins each year for the pleasure of your people. What more would you demand?”

“Those virgins live better lives in Rome than they ever would here, so that’s hardly _taking_ on my part. And Athens is troubled that it has earned none. It will be a hundred virgins this year.”

“You cannot!”

“Cannot…?” Caesar repeated the word slowly, as though unfamiliar with the concept and sampling it. Rolling the intonation over her tongue to taste it. All the while, Cleopatra bristled helplessly. “Interesting. Perhaps I should test that. Marca. If I told you to march through Alexandria and collect every virgin you found, how long would it take you to find a hundred?”

“An hour, Imperator. Maybe less.”

“Well.” Caesar looked back to her, all smiles. “If _you_ cannot do it, then I think you should try a little harder. Or should I perhaps crown Marca Queen of Alexandria?” Caesar watched as Cleopatra’s teeth ground together. She smiled patronisingly. “I’m sure it’s only effort that holds you back. It certainly isn’t _defiance_ , is it?”

“No.”

“Then it shall be done.”

Cleopatra gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. “It will be done…”

“Marvellous. See? I’m easy to deal with if you’re honest - the Germanic warrior-women tribes learned that quickly enough. Maybe I’ll even take Nefertiti along with me. We have a custom of apprenticeship in Rome. I could teach her a thing or two.” Caesar licked her lips. “I could teach her many things.”

“Do not.” Bitterly, she added, “I plead of you.”

“Hmph. A boon? Another? It’s hardly the first time.” Caesar sat back on the bed. “I’ll consider it, but you shall have to make it worth my while. Dance for me. I found your dancers entertaining enough but lacking for my august tastes.” She waved a hand. “Show me how it’s truly done. Perhaps a Queen will satisfy where commoners could not.”

Cleopatra’s eyes slid to the other woman in the room.

“Marca stays,” Caesar said. “You do not have anything she hasn’t seen before. Or touched.” A smile. “Or tasted and used. Your daughters really do have Marca’s delicate features.” To Marca, she said, “You should be proud of them. Your seed has birthed two lovely girls.”

While Cleopatra shook with fury, Marca bowed. “Thank you, Imperator.”

Nefertari and Nefertiti were _her_ daughters. Hers and hers alone. That someone else had been involved in their creation was a factor that would not, and never would, register in her mind. Cleopatra steadfastly ignored the curly-haired brunette and instead reached up to her shoulder bringing down the strap of her dress as she began to dance to some wordless tune.

Caesar watched for a few moments, letting her get her dress down to her waist and reveal her bountiful breasts before she stood. “Wait. It’s not quite right. What’s missing, I wonder?” The way she smiled as she tapped her arm suggested she already knew but was enjoying dragging the affair out. “Ah, yes. Music! Marca, fetch our marching band. While my eyes are delighted, my ears are hungry for sustenance of their own.”

Marca left and returned within minutes, leading in at least _fifteen_ legionaries with drums and horns and other instruments. They made no attempt to hide the lecherous ways in which they looked at her. All hard-bitten and rough women who saw not the Queen of an allied nation, but a soft and full woman with skin the colour of amber. They feasted their eyes upon her while she did her best to ignore them and focus only on Caesar.

When they began to play their music again, Cleopatra danced.

It was but a few minutes of swaying and spinning before Caesar interrupted once more. “There’s still something missing,” she mused. “Ah, I know.” Leaning over, she whispered into Marca’s ear.

Marca nodded and left again.

“What now?” Cleopatra asked.

“It’s a surprise. Be patient, my dear, and you’ll see.”

The doors opened again and Marca stepped in with two more legionaries. Along with them were Nefertari and Nefertiti, and Cleopatra’s heart leapt into her throat. Rounding on Caesar, she demanded, “Why are they here? What is the meaning of this?”

“Calm yourself, Cleopatra. You look hysterical.” Laughing, she said, “I thought something was missing and I realised it was an audience. We have the band and the dancer but we needed some more people to watch.”

The guards placed their hands on her daughters’ shoulders, holding them still. Nefertari looked resigned but determined not to give ground. Proud and firm. Nefertiti was the opposite, shaken and watching her mother intently, as if by focusing only on her, she could pretend the lusty women around them did not exist.

“Dance well and no ill shall come of them,” Caesar said. “But do a poor job and I might decide they should dance in your place.”

That was to be it then. The blackmail to be held over her head. Cleopatra breathed in deeply and started to move as the music began. A Greco-Romanian beat. It was different, but she pressed her feet down to the beat and bent her knees, ducked and swayed, rolled her hips and her belly for the Imperator who watched her. She followed her bouncing breasts, flicking hips and the undulating movements.

“Faster.”

The music increased in tempo. Cleopatra had to as well to meet it. Her steps became kicks, her languid slaying frantic. Her hair flew about as she moved, spun and leapt.

“Faster.”

The beat quickened further. Cleopatra lurched left and right, making her movements short as she no longer had any hope of matching with longer. Her hair flicked sweat as she danced left, moisture glistening over her naked body. Her skin had become darker, flushed with blood.

“Faster!”

Her eyes grew wide. As the beat drummed harder still, she strained to keep up, spinning with her arms out. Every rotation dotted the floor with sweat. Her ragged breath was audible against the staccato beat. Her lungs burned.

Caesar refrained from demanding more but it made little difference. Her feet slapped down. Her calves felt as though they were on fire. Linking her hands above her, she whipped her hips left and right so hard she almost tumbled. Her breasts bounced painfully, pulled this way and that as her stomach convulsed.

“Drum roll.”

The final beat was a rolling pitter-patter. Cleopatra whipped her head and hair back and forth, twisting like a snake as it reached its greatest pitch, ripping what little energy remained as she leapt forward and bent back at the waist.

It stopped suddenly.

As did she. Collapsing to her knees, the gasped for air, soaked with sweat both hair and skin alike, and shaking like a reed caught in a sandstorm. Her breasts rose and fell as she took in greedy gulps of air.

Through it all, Caesar applauded slowly. “That’s it,” she said. “What was missing from the feast. A little bit of energy. It’s almost a shame we won’t see your daughters perform, but I’m nothing if not a woman of my word.”

Nefertari and Titi. Cleopatra looked back shamefully and felt her stomach churn as they would not meet her eyes. Did they despair to see their mother on the floor in such a state? Did they regret her? Or were they as disgusted as she?

Even if she knew it was the latter, her racing heart would not let her ignore the former. 

“You have my blood rushing now, Queen Cleopatra.” Julia Caesar stood, and in the seconds that had passed, her Goddess-granted cock had returned. Hard and true like a gladius, the weapon was eight inches at the shortest and hard as steel. “Come now,” she said, petting a hand on Cleopatra’s own bed. “Come and I shall grant you your reward.”

Shakily, Cleopatra stood. Her legs almost failed her but Marca caught her, both hands holding one of hers in what might have been considered a gentle manner. She would not have it and tore hers away, glaring down the curly-haired girl with all the hate she could muster.

“What of my girls?” she asked Caesar. “They need not witness this.”

“They stay. Let them learn from the example of their mother. They’ll need such knowledge if they want to grow up to be good, Roman citizens. The band is dismissed,” she added, waving a hand to them. “For your service, visit the chambers next door and claim a handmaiden each for your pleasure tonight.”

Cleopatra trembled. “Those are _my_ handmaidens…”

“Your harem, you mean?” Caesar laughed. “Cleopatra, you have no need of them tonight, so why not let them serve another?” Ignoring her complaints, she waved to the marching band, who hurried out, eager to claim and despoil Cleopatra’s loving servants.

There was nothing she could to stop them. Yet.

 _In time,_ she promised silently. _I will protect you all in time. I will not abandon you as the other Goddesses have. This, I swear._

Still dripping with sweat and with her hair clinging to her, she made her way to her own bed, sitting and then laying down when Caesar gave her shoulders a little push. The Imperator cared not for foreplay and gripped her ankles, raising her legs apart and high. She held her there, letting Nefertari and Nefertiti, along with Marca and the two guards, see her pink sex.

At least Shanti was not here to see such. Cleopatra dreaded to think how her most loyal and loving servant might have reacted, or what punishment might befall her for doing so. Allowing her head to fall back, Cleopatra looked up toward the ceiling and the uncaring statues of the Goddesses that were supposed to, but all too often did not, look down on her.

“I claim this conquest for Jupiter, Rome and the people of Greco-Romania.”

Conquest.

Spoils

Cleopatra closed her eyes, grimacing as she felt Caesar’s hard, uncompromising girth pushed up against her. The moisture was sweat and little more, leaving her passage dry. A more caring lover might have deigned to wet it with their tongue, but Caesar did as she always would when faced with an insurmountable object. Beat it down.

The battering ram that was her cock proved just as effective as the ones she employed on castle gates, forcing Cleopatra’s body to yield and pushing inside, where the plunder and pillage could truly begin.

It did so in earnest.

Julia Caesar wasn’t interested in making her feel good. After so long marching, she was only after her own pleasure, so Cleopatra was bent back and in two, stomach forced to give way as the blonde Roman clambered up onto the bed atop her, hammering in and out of her body with a wet slap of flesh. One hand gripped her waist to hold her still, while another roughly fondled her large breasts, squeezing painfully and gripping flesh so hard it rose up red and sore between her fingers.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” Caesar grunted, rutting her like an animal. “How long with just myself and Marca I’ve been waiting for this moment, thinking of you here just ready for me to take.” The hand on her breast rose higher, finding Cleopatra’s neck and pinning it to the bed in act of dominance. “You really do have the finest body this side of the Mediterranean. If I brought you back to Rome, there would be legions lining up for a taste of you. For but the sight of you.”

Her eyes closed, a moan slipping past her lips as Caesar ravaged her.

“That’s right. Sing for me, my dove. Tell me how it feels. How does it feel?”

“Rough,” she gasped. “You’re too rough.”

Rather than be annoyed, Caesar laughed. “I’m Roman! A proud Greco-Romanian.” Her hand left her neck and came lower, both gripping her hips as she dragged Cleopatra back onto her and increased the pace, slamming into her harder and harder. “When we march, empires fear. When we wage war, kingdoms fall. When we _fuck_ , the ground trembles.”

Arrogant fool. With her newfound power, she could kill Caesar a hundred times over. Only, she couldn’t kill her legions. Her empire. Egypt could not survive such conflict yet, and so when Caesar made mention of conquering her, of conquering Egypt of conquering a _Goddess_ , Cleopatra could do little more than close her eyes and ignore it. Fight down the rage and spread her legs wider, grip the sheets and beg for it to end.

A hard thrust. Another. A third. Cleopatra’s back arched, body rising off the sheets as Caesar’s length filled her. Her breasts heaved with every violent motion, her legs forced up and over Caesar’s shoulders. Before her own daughters, she came, shaking with shame and horror, betrayed by her own body.

_Nooo…_

Her walls clamped down. Cleopatra howled, disgusted and guilty that her body had responded to someone she hated with such a passion. In that moment, she would have welcomed death, especially with Tari and Titi in attendance.

“As ever,” Caesar grunted. “Rome stands victorious. You can fight it all you like, but the Empire wins in the end. Now take it, take my seed and birth a proud Roman yourself!”

The cock within her expanded and pulsed. It wasn’t just the tool itself but the tantric energy she could not sense. It suffused and raced up out of Caesar and down between Cleopatra’s legs. In horror, she watched the golden glow disappear past her light bush and inside, felt that brief second of impending doom as Caesar thrust in hard and held.

_No. Not there. Not now…_

The first splash of cum erupted inside her. Shrieking, Cleopatra threw her head back, masking her agonised wail with a cry of orgasm. It wasn’t entirely fake. As a Goddess in her own right, the pure tantric energy was fuel for her own reserves, though fuel she would happily done without. It splashed inside of her, virile and hot and so much more than it should have been.

 _Jupiter’s gift,_ she realised helplessly, feeling her stomach bulge. Seeing it bulge. Her hands lay upon her belly, which expanded under the force of litres of cum pumped directly into her womb. The Queen of their Goddesses, and the one from which all others were born, which naturally implied a level of virility beyond the pale.

Cleopatra’s sex spurted shamefully. A small amount at first, and then a river, as powerful as the Nile itself bursting its banks and spraying white seed all over the sheets and her own legs. She wailed in embarrassment, hands over her face as Caesar pulled out, took her legs and spun her on the bed so that Nefertari and Nefertiti could see their mother’s slit and the thick globs of Greco-Romanian cum that ebbed out of it.

“And that,” Caesar said tiredly, “Is how a _Roman_ takes a woman. Remember it, heiresses of Cleopatra, for you’ll certainly be wedded to fine, Roman stock in time.”

On the bed, behind her fingers, fighting bitter tears, Cleopatra whispered, “ _Over my dead body…”_

Nefertari and Nefertiti had little to say. Quiet, reserved and stunned, they stood in place, heads bowed and shoulders slumped. Seeing that and satisfied for now, Caesar waved a hand. “Take them back to their chambers. Unmolested,” she added. “You two will return here and guard the chamber. Come morn, you may take a handmaiden each to enjoy, but duty calls for now.”

The legionaries saluted and led the girls away. As they did so, Caesar moved on the bed, kneeling by Cleopatra’s face. She batted her hands away carelessly, ignored Cleopatra’s tears and pushed her wet and slimy cock down toward her mouth.

“Marca,” she called.

“Yes, Imperator?”

“You have stood there quietly once more. What do I do to deserve such unwavering loyalty?”

“You serve the people,” Marca replied lovingly, her brown eyes watching with such devotion that Cleopatra felt sickened. “It is all I ask in turn to be allowed to serve you. In whatever way you might wish.”

Caesar looked deeply at her, noting how Marca’s eyes were lower. Looking down again, Caesar laughed, brandishing her still erect cock. “You wish for this, Marca?”

The centurion licked her lips. “I would not dare…”

“No, no. You have earned your position, Marca Aurelia. Dare not hold your tongue with me. I’m afraid _this_ is for Cleopatra, but there is plenty more.” Taking her legs once more, Caesar held them up and open, showing her still oozing sex. A puddle of semen had long since pooled on the bed, ruining the sheets beyond repair. “Help yourself if you would.”

“May I…?”

“Of course. I would not have suggested otherwise.”

Marca approached reverently, attention not on Cleopatra but the cum that poured from her. She was not a woman to Marca, not even a creature worthy of notice. Her only worth was the pleasure her body brought Caesar, and whether she might act as a vestibule from which she might drink her beloved Imperator’s essence.

Angrily, Cleopatra kicked her legs. “No! Not her. Anyone but her! I _despise_ her!”

Caesar didn’t let go. “Come now, Cleopatra. Marca is a loyal servant and should be rewarded as such, no?” Holding her in place, Caesar pushed her crotch down, forcing her wet cock past Cleopatra’s lips before she could complain.

“Mmmm!” she wailed, sickened by the taste. Her cries reached a higher pitch even more when something hot and wet rubbed up against her slit. Marca’s small fingers pulled her folds apart, granting her better access as she pushed her wet tongue deep into Cleopatra in search of Caesar’s seed. “Mmmmgh!” she whined. “Nnnnn!”

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” The blonde woman’s laughter boomed. “Drink up, Marca, and once you are done, call upon the blessings of Mercury and enjoy yourself of her as I have. You did such a good job with her other children. Let us race to see who shall impregnant her this time. A competition between friends. I’m sure Cleopatra has no complaint.”

None that she could give, held in place as she was while Caesar made use of her mouth and Marca drank her clean from below. When the available cum was licked clean from her thighs and her buttocks, and when her tongue could push no deeper in search of more, Marca intoned a short prayer to Mercury and allowed a smaller, but no less dangerous, phallus grow between her legs.

Taking her place against Cleopatra, with her hands close to Caesar’s, Marca pushed her way inside, spearing deep into her already soiled passage. Still choking and forced to suck on Caesar’s disgusting cock, Cleopatra watched with tears in her eyes as the two joined lips above her, melting into one another as they used her as little more than a toy.

_Ra. Isis. Osiris. Hathor. Set. Why have you never saved me? Why did you abandon us?_

The Goddesses did not answer, and her humiliation continued long into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

The stars above sparkled in the dark sky, shining their meagre light down on the city of Alexandra, and Cleopatra, robed at last but no less despoiled for it, sat on the roof of the palace, a small and secluded area where servants would set inks and dyes to dry. A place where none would expect to find their Queen, and where she could let loose the tears that could not be allowed to fall in public.

That someone’s bare feet sounded behind her proved that even this wouldn’t be granted her. A moment later, she realised it was not feet at all but hooves. Knees touched the floor, a large and motherly figure sitting beside her.

Safiya, Nefertiti’s servant and lover, the Hathor-worshipping animal kin.

“Here,” the kindly woman said, holding forth a small basin within which floated some leaves in a pool of emerald water. “This will help you feel better and prevent any seed taking. There will be no union of this night should you drink.”

As a Goddess, she had the power to determine that herself, but she felt weak and fragile enough that she didn’t refuse. Taking the bowl, she downed its contents. The taste was acrid and bitter, though not more so than the cum she’d been forced to swallow numerous times tonight. Handing the bowl back, she looked away.

“Do my daughters despair of me?”

“What daughter could despair of their mother sacrificing so much for their sake?” Safiya laid a hand on her shoulder. “They do not, nor do they feel disappointment. They are smarter than you give them credit for. Hurt, yes, afraid naturally, but no less loving. Hathor is the same. She weeps to see what has been done to you.”

“Weeps, but does not act,” Cleopatra snapped. “Her tears do not help me.”

“It is her tears you just drank.”

Cleopatra spluttered, looking back and showing her tearstained face at last.

“Do you think she would not grant you it? Blasphemous as your actions may be, none can deny that Egypt needs them. And you endured such things to protect your children tonight that a Goddess of motherhood could not stand idly by. Assisting you directly is beyond her power.” Her face fell. “Hathor despairs that this is the little she can offer you.” A wet cloth was proffered. She used it to clean her tears away, rubbing black kohl down her cheeks. “What now, oh Queen and Goddess of Alexandria? What will you do now?”

“Now, I wait.” Cleopatra gave the cloth back. “I endure. I grow strong. I claim, and I take back what is ours. Caesar will leave within a day. This display was too barbaric even for her, so that must mean she intends to be gone tomorrow and wants to make a show. Remind me who is the one in control and leave me broken.”

“Will you break?”

“I haven’t yet and have no intention of starting now. Once she is gone, I’ll be free to engage in tantric rituals to gather more power.”

“To what end? Power without a cause or the will to use it is meaningless, as the Goddesses have shown…”

“I have a plan,” she said. “Forgive me if I don’t reveal it to you, but what is said among the Gods may travel and that would bring ill-will. Suffice to say, I intend to challenge this corruption, the indolence of the Goddesses, at its source.”

“The source? You cannot mean Ra herself…”

“Can’t I? As the Queen of the Gods, she should be the one to act first.”

“I do not disagree, but her power is immeasurable. Ra the Unconquerable. Not even the Greco-Romanian Gods could force her to bend, and you do not have the power of Jupiter, Mars or Mercury. It’s said that Horus, Sobek and Thoth tried to claim her and that Ra defeated all three, trapping Thoth in an inescapable riddle while matching and dominating Horus and Sobek. Do you seek to succeed where they were conquered?”

“Brute strength Goddesses,” she scoffed. “What can you expect of them but to try and beat Ra down and make her theirs? If she cannot be conquered through such means, then it’s only because she has a way to escape it. There’s no such thing as unconquerable. Only different degrees of difficulty.”

The cow woman looked down on her carefully, the golden accessories hanging from her horns chiming softly in the wind. Eventually, she nodded, accepting that Cleopatra would not be swayed and that it was not her place to make it so.

“Be careful, Queen and Goddess. It’s not my place to say it, but your daughters would weep if you were turned into a pleasure drone like so many others who have challenged Ra and been defeated. One does not weather the tantric fury of a Goddess lightly. Those who experience it rarely come out unaffected. Or as they once were.”

“I know.” Cleopatra took a deep breath. “That’s why I need to be ready. I failed my people today, but I shall not fail them again.”

“Failure? Is that what you believe?”

“Is it not?” she demanded. “You saw what happened. I knelt before a warlord and took her seed, while all around me my own subjects were taken by rough and brutish monsters masquerading as woman. I have a responsibility to them and I did not fulfil it.”

“That may be true, but you also place too much upon yourself.” Safiya laid a hand upon her cheek and drew her Cleopatra’s face into her over-large bosom. It was improper, especially to her own Queen, and yet Cleopatra found herself leaning in and closing her eyes, allowing herself one moment of weakness where no one could see. “The people did suffer,” Safiya admitted, “But they did not suffer alone. You suffered with them, and that showed them all that they are not alone.”

“For what little good it did…”

“Perhaps more than you realise. We all suffer under the yoke of Greco-Romanian rule. That you suffer among us while the Goddesses hide away does not make you weak. It makes you strong. It makes you one of us. We see and we despair, but we also rage. We watch, we bide our time and we wait ready for your ascendancy. At least, that is what I think.”

“I see.” Cleopatra pushed her face into the woman’s bosom, wiping her tears away. “Thank you, Safiya. Perhaps I needed to hear this.”

Safiya tugged at her robes, revealing a swollen breast with an inviting nipple standing dark and dusty, milk oozing from the tip. “Would you care to receive my dedication? I am sworn to Hathor, but _she_ is willing to allow a boon for one that espouses her virtues.”

It was tempting. Not just for the power, but for the comfort promised. Soft, warm and loving as only a mother could be, Safiya would take all her worries away, swaddle her in flesh and pleasure and make her feel as safe as a new-born.

“I cannot. I must return to Caesar lest I be missed.”

“It is not strength to punish yourself, my Queen.”

“No. But it would be weakness if I allowed some other poor girl to take the brunt of Caesar’s impatience, would it not? I will not ask anyone to do that which I will not do myself. That is what shall differentiate me from the other Goddesses.” Turning away, Cleopatra took a deep breath. The air was cold, the bed that awaited her hot and sticky, but with the tantric energy flowing through her, she thought she might be able to withstand it. No matter what Caesar did, she could embrace herself in that.

_Prepare yourself, Ra. If you will not act, then I shall force you to._

 


End file.
